


A Breath Away From Where You Are

by butterflybaby91



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Brief Mentions Of Rape, Death, F/M, Kidnapping, Revolution, Romance, and the aftermath, eventually happiness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-04-13
Packaged: 2017-11-28 19:47:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 23
Words: 55,587
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/678225
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterflybaby91/pseuds/butterflybaby91
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>On her way to deliver a letter to Cosette, Eponine runs into a friend who offers her a chance at the affection she's always dreamed of receiving.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

The rain had made the cobblestones slick as ice, causing Eponine to struggle to maintain her balance as she rushed through the streets of Paris. The balmy air of the rainy June night enveloped her, weighing her down, making her movements slowed as if she was moving through water. The letter that she had stuffed into her bodice felt like a knife cutting through her heart. She cursed the Lark that had captured Marius’ heart. She cursed herself for having agreed to be their messenger. As preoccupied as she was with her despair, she momentarily forgot about the wet streets and her foot slipped and she felt herself plummeting toward the ground. Just as she was about to make impact, an arm flew out from the shadows and wrapped itself around her waist, pulling her close to the person who had interrupted her fall. She whipped around in the person’s arms to find herself face to face with Marius’ friend Enjolras.

  
“Eponine, are you okay,” he asked worry clear on his face as he continued to grip her close to him.

“I’m fine thank you,” Eponine replied, suddenly realizing how close they were standing as she tried to maneuver herself out of his arms.

He released her, but kept an arm out to steady her should she fall again as he inquired, “Where are you going? It’s not very safe to be out alone so late.”

“I thank you for saving me, Monsieur, but I’ll be fine. I can take care of myself, now I must be on my way,” Eponine interjected curtly, giving Enjolras a nod, before turning and heading down the street.

“Wait!” Enjolras called after her, jogging to catch up with her swift strides. “Let me accompany you at least” He placed a hand on her forearm, trying to slow her down.

Eponine stopped and looked at Enjolras. He was starring at her, waiting for a response. She met his eyes and something in the look he was giving her made it impossible to refuse him. She sighed, “Fine, come along.”

Enjolras smiled and looked relived, which puzzled Eponine, “Thank you,” he whispered. He squeezed her arm and then slipped his hand down to grasp hers.  
Eponine went to jerk her hand away, but then she noticed how warm his hand felt wrapped around hers and how tenderly his thumb rubbed the back of her hand. She was so rarely shown any sign of caring that she found she could not reject his sweet gesture. She turned and led him further down the street.  
When they reached Cosette’s home, Eponine stopped. Enjolras looked at her questioningly. She gestured for him to wait on the street. He hesitated, but nodded, and Eponine snuck into the garden attached to the house. A couple of minutes later she made her way out and Enjolras caught a glimpse of a blond girl that walked Eponine out of the garden.  
Eponine made her way back to where Enjolras stood. He took her hand again and this time she let him without a second thought. “You’re too nice to him,” Enjolras told her as they walked away from the house.  
Eponine was startled and stammered, “What… what are you talking about?”  
“Marius; you love him don’t you?” Eponine blanched, but Enjolras continued before she could speak, “It’s obvious Eponine. Everyone knows it, but him. You love him, yet you take notes to the object of his affection and break your own heart in the process—you’re much too good for him.”

  
Eponine felt her cheeks burning, embarrassed that her feelings were so visible to everyone else, “I know, I’m pathetic, but I just keep hanging on, hoping, wishing, he’ll notice me one day,” she looked down and dropped Enjolras’ hand. She felt wretched and stupid for her continual hope that Marius’ heart would ever be hers.

  
Eponine went to walk away, ashamed of herself, but Enjolras grabbed her hand and kept her near him. He placed his hand on the side of her face and tilted her head up so she was looking at him. She had tears glistening in her eyes, threatening to spill over. “I don’t think you’re pathetic,” he whispered, rubbing a thumb on her cheek, “I think you’re fiercely loyal, maybe to the point of being masochistic,” he chuckled, “but you’re also so very caring, in that you want him to be happy, even if it hurts you. And you’re so strong. You try so hard to hide the pain I know you’re feeling.” Eponine blushed at Enjolras’ kind words and tried to look away, but Enjolras did not allow her to. “Marius is an idiot,” he breathed and suddenly he was kissing her. His lips were soft on her rough ones and his hand did not leave her cheek, but his other arm wrapped around itself her waist, pulling her close to him.

  
Eponine was startled at first, but like holding his hand earlier, she could not deny herself the warmth and comfort his lips and embrace afforded her. After a minute, she returned his kisses and twisted her arms around his neck and gently ran her fingers through his golden curls. She felt Enjolras maneuvering her backwards until she was pressed up against the coarse wall of the building behind her. He continued their unbroken kisses for several more minutes, before his lips left hers and began trailing their way down her neck. As he did so, Eponine let out a quiet moan, causing them both to become aware of how exposed they were kissing on the street. At the same time that Enjolras pulled slightly away, Eponine’s eyes flew open and she stared at him, suddenly feeling shy.

  
“Come on,” he said, smirking a little at Eponine’s hesitant expression, “Let’s reprise this at my flat—it’s just around the corner,” he put his arm around Eponine’s waist to lead her away, but Eponine hesitated.

  
“What are we doing,” Eponine asked warily, not pulling away from Enjolras, but not quite ready to head to his flat yet either. A couple of minutes ago she had been pining over her heartbreak that had been caused by Marius, but Enjolras’ sweet kisses had already caused her to forget all about Marius and his love for Cosette. Eponine wondered why she had never noticed how handsome Enjolras was, as she started at his face that was slightly damp from the rain that continued to fall, and was shining in the moonlight.  
“We were kissing,” Eponine waved away Enjolras’ attempt at banter and stared him down until he sighed and placed his hands on either side of her face, “I’ve been watching you, ever since you first came to the café with Marius. I find you to be quite,” he paused, searching for the right word.

  
“Don’t say beautiful or anything like that,” Eponine whispered casting her eyes downward. “I know I’m not and you don’t need to lie to me to get me into your bed.”

  
“That’s not what I was going to say! Nor is that my motivation behind my actions, I assure you. I was going to say I find you intriguing,” Enjolras continued hurriedly, aghast at how badly Eponine must think of men if she thought his only motive was to get her into his bed. “The way you put up such a fierce front, yet anyone that watches you closely can see how one careless remark from Pontmercy,” Eponine grimaced as Enjolras said his name, “sends you falling to pieces inside. Even now you were putting yourself in danger of physical harm, to give that girl a note from Marius. Pontmercy is blind. You deserve so much more than him and I was just hoping I to offer you some of the caring that you deserve,” he trailed off as Eponine looked up and met his gaze.

  
There was a long pause, before Eponine said, “I don’t need your pity,” as she moved away from Enjolras’ grasp.

  
He reached out again to grab Eponine’s hand, “It’s not pity. I find myself wanting to get to know the real Eponine—the one behind the hardened outer shell, for she seems like she’d be an amazing woman.”

  
Eponine blushed again, not exactly believing him, but also realizing that she had never known Enjolras to be one to have inconsequential dalliances with women. If he was interested in spending time with her—and interested in caring for her, he probably had thought about it thoroughly and was not going to take no for an answer. But she still did not really believe that he thought her to be such a complex person, when she so obviously was not. Eponine pulled her hand away again, as she mumbled, “There’s nothing to me except my hard exterior, I assure you Monsieur.”

  
Enjolras stepped up close to her, gently cupped her cheek before saying, “I refuse to believe that Mademoiselle,” as he softly kissed her again. He pulled away, took her hand yet again, and tugged her down the street after him, “Come on, we’re going to my place.”

  
Eponine followed behind him quietly for a while but eventually moved up next to him and took his arm. As she did, Enjolras smiled happily down at her as they made their way through the dark Paris streets.


	2. Chapter 2

Enjolras studied the raven haired girl standing awkwardly in the middle of his flat. Eponine was not exactly pretty by most people’s standards. Her hair was tangled and hung free down her back. Her face had smudges of grime and dirt in several places as did her bare arms. A lack of proper food had left her much too thin and had also caused her cheeks to appear sunken as well as having caused the skin around her eyes to yellow and darken. All over, her skin was tanned and wrinkled—another tell tale sign of her poverty and the extended amount of time she spent outdoors. Her clothes had all but turned to rags on her body, barely covering her, and offering limited protection from the elements.

However, all Enjolras had been able to focus on the first time he had met her, had been her eyes. Those glistening brown orbs held a spark not often seen in the eyes of the other gamines who roamed the streets of Paris. It was a spark that showed curiosity and intelligence, as well as a bit of belligerence. Those eyes had held Enjolras captive many a time as he had stared into them, trying to find out more about this girl from her expressive eyes alone.

The word love, in connection with Eponine, had never crossed his mind, rather it was his strong interest in learning what created that spark of life in her that caused Enjolras to begin watching Eponine as she hung out around the café; keeping tabs on the errands she ran for Marius and listening whenever she spoke, even if it was not to him, as he tried to gain further insight into how she thought. He often observed her getting into arguments about politics with the other men who hung around the café. He learned that even though she had no formal education, what she had learned through her hard life and through what reading material she had been able to get her hands on, she had some distinctly formed opinions and she was very strongly dogmatic when it came to defending them.

Enjolras had found himself caring more about her well being as he watched her. When she would come into the café happy to see Marius, only to have her spirits crushed by the boy using her as his own personal cupid, Enjolras would want to comfort her, but he never knew how—he had never been the best at interacting on an emotional level with people. He also found that he wanted to do more than just study her—he wanted to engage her in conversation and learn as much as he could about her as she seemed quite interesting. Enjolras knew himself to be above the grasp of love’s hold, but he did not deny that he wished to care for and comfort the intriguing creature he now found staring back at him from the center of his living area.

Eponine coughed and Enjolras jerked out of his thoughts, realizing that he had been staring at her too long. He walked over and led her to the table, “Please sit,” he gestured to the chair he held out. “Are you hungry?” he added as an afterthought, realizing she probably did not get frequent meals.

Eponine paused and appeared to be waging an internal war between her hunger and her pride before she eventually nodded and sat down. Enjolras smiled at her, happy that she was letting him help her, and went to go see what food he had. He came back a couple minutes later carrying a plate with bread and cheese on it and balancing two tankards in one hand. He sat all the dishes on the table, sloshing out some of the wine that was in the tankards in the process.

“Eat up,” Enjolras said as he sat down and took one of the tankards of wine.

“Thank you,” Eponine said gratefully as she broke off a piece of the bread and nibbled on it, still feeling shy and awkward about why she was even there in his flat, much less eating his food. She was thankful when Enjolras also took a piece of bread—it made it seem more like they were sharing a meal instead of him feeding her out of pity.

They sat there eating in silence for several moments. As Eponine finished off the last drops of her wine, she slowly put the tankard down, sensing Enjolras’ eyes on her, and looked up into his face nervously, not knowing what was going to happen now that the security blanket of dining was out of the way. Enjolras cleared his throat and breathed, “Well,” and then he was suddenly standing in front of Eponine’s chair and was offering her his hand. She carefully placed her hand in his and he pulled her up and into his arms. Eponine was stiff at first, but gradually relaxed into his embrace. He stroked her hair as Eponine wrapped her arms around his torso, burying her face into his chest, still not completely understanding why they were doing this, but she still loved how it felt to be wrapped tenderly in this man’s strong embrace.

Her curiosity got the better of her however, as she sighed and took a step away from Enjolras and again asked him, “Why are we doing this? Why are you doing this? You know I love Marius...” her voice broke thinking of the heartbreak that man had caused her.

At her repressed sob, Enjolras took her in his arms once more. He found that now that he had started, he did not want to stop touching her, and watching her stand there and start to break down without comforting her was unthinkable. “Shh,” he whispered, “I know. I told you, I’ve been watching you suffer and it’s gotten to be too much for me—I just want to offer you some semblance of comfort.” He paused as he realized his response did not explain the kisses—he realized that as a friend he probably should have just shown that he cared for her without the extra physical contact. He did not really know what had come over him when he had kissed her. “And well; I’m sorry for kissing you if that overstepped any boundaries. I’m not really sure how to explain why that happened,” Enjolras continued anxiously watching Eponine’s reaction, hoping she would not be too mad at him.

Eponine heard the uncertainty in his voice and looked up at Enjolras. She saw the worry that he had said or done something wrong reflected in his eyes, but she also saw a need and a fear in them that puzzled her. She thought about what could possible frighten Enjolras who was so bravely going to lead his friends into revolution in the near future. And then it dawned on her. Among all the others he had to be their fearless leader—he had to be confident and strong. He could not express any doubts or worries to the other Amis for it would throw off their confidence in the cause. Eponine realized what Enjolras himself had probably barely realized—he was in need of the comfort of another human just as much as she was. He could not obtain that comfort from his friends, but she could offer him such comfort.

“It’s okay,” she whispered, stroking his jaw lightly before reaching up on her tiptoes to gently press her lips to his. He deepened the kiss, knotting his fingers in her hair and running his tongue along her bottom lip. Their tongues met as they further relaxed into each other’s embrace. Eponine found herself pulling back and quietly saying, almost to herself, “we can comfort each other, can’t we?” she met Enjolras’ eyes and he gave her a smile in response to her questioning look.

“Yes we can,” he murmured. He then grew more serious and repeated his previous pledge, “I assure you, that I am not trying to get you into my bed. I only wanted to casually share an evening with you.” Eponine nodded—she believed him, but he still saw a ghost of doubt pass over her eyes. To show her he was serious, Enjolras led her to the couch and tugged her down next to him, “See, we’ll just sit here on the couch.” She chuckled at his joking attempt to appease her worries. They sat there, enjoying each other’s kisses and company for the remainder of the evening and fell asleep, still on the couch, and in each other’s arms.


	3. Chapter 3

_Eponine_

The morning sun settled onto Eponine’s face. She was awake, but did not want to open her eyes. She could not remember the last time she had felt so refreshed and comfortable upon waking up and she did not want the pleasant feelings to go away. Then, as she remembered why she had had such a nice evening, her eyes flew open and she hurriedly glanced at the man whose arms were still loosely around her as they lay haphazardly on the couch.

            Enjolras had been so sweet and such a gentleman toward her last night—true to his word all they had done was kiss and offer the other the comfort of human companionship. But in the morning light, confusion overtook the comfort that had reigned supreme as she had spent the night before in his arms. She examined Enjolras as he slept. Eponine had to admit—he was more handsome than Marius. His golden curls were partly crushed by the back of the couch and were covering half of his face. She reached up and carefully brushed some of the wild tendrils of hair away from his eyes so she could get a better look at his face. He looked so peaceful as he slept, all the signs of worry and stress that were usually splayed across his face during the day were erased in slumber. She admired his round nose and his strong jaw. She let her fingers trail over the soft lips that had so tenderly kissed hers the night before and graze the blonde stubble that had begun appearing along his upper lip and chin. As she did so, Enjolras mumbled in his sleep and his arms tightened around her a bit. Eponine took note of how strong he felt—his arms felt much more sturdy around her than Marius’ had felt the time or two he had given her a hug. Enjolras looked and felt much more like a man than Marius did. _He acts more like a man as well,_ Eponine thought, remembering how childish and lovesick Marius had been acting of late.

            Suddenly, Eponine felt suffocated in Enjolras’ apartment. She had to get away. All these thoughts about how pleasing Enjolras was were clouding her head and obscuring her feelings for Marius. She loved Marius, Eponine reminded herself. Enjolras had just been kind enough to offer some much needed comfort. Eponine disentangled herself from Enjolras’ arms, being careful not to wake him and snuck out the door. Once she was on the street, Eponine felt like she could breathe again, but the confusion and doubt still fogged her brain. _Am I that starved for affection that I will let any good looking man kiss me?_ She wondered, _don’t I love Marius? Yes I do,_ she reminded herself. Then why had kissing and talking to Enjolras just felt so…right? Eponine took note of how few people were actually out on the streets and decided she was probably just over tired—it was still rather early to be up, regardless of if she had slept well. She just had to see Marius again; that would clear her head.

            Eponine found herself turning down an alley that would lead her toward Marius’ flat. If she was lucky, maybe she could see him before he had to go to class. However, as she did so, she ran straight into a wall of flesh. Eponine fell to the ground and looked up into her father’s leering face. “ _Merde_ ,” she muttered as she stumbled to her feet.

            “Where have you been _salope sans valeur_?” her father glowered at her, gripping her arm and pulling her with him down the alley, “Come on, you have work to do.” Eponine sighed, but allowed her father to drag her with him--seeing Marius would have to wait.

_Enjolras_

Enjolras woke late in the morning, when the sun was already high in the sky. He groaned and sat up, rubbing his back and regretting having slept so long on the couch. Then, he remembered why he had been sleeping there in the first place. Noticing the empty space next to him, he jumped up, looking frantically around the room. “Eponine,” he called, feeling a little foolish. What, did he think she was hiding? Apparently, she decided she had had enough of him and left. It was probably for the best; Enjolras had already wasted too much time sleeping late as it was.

He quickly changed into clean clothes, gathered his things and left for the day. As he made his way to the university, Enjolras found himself looking into the face of every gamine with dark hair that he passed. He felt a pang of disappointment every time he did not find her eyes looking back at him. _Why am I searching for her?_ He thought. _Last night meant nothing to either of us—just a way to forget our troubles,_ he reasoned. Had Eponine not demonstrated that by leaving before he was even up this morning? Enjolras decided that her hasty disappearance was what was causing him to desperately examine every passerby. He was her friend—he just wanted to make sure she was okay. He wanted to make sure he had not frightened her or added to the pain that Pontmercy already bestowed on her.

Reaching the university and realizing he would have to give up his search, Enjolras sighed and reluctantly made his way to the library. He tried to push the Thenardier girl out of his thoughts and focus on his studies for the rest of the day, but found that he was having little success.

Around mid afternoon, as Enjolras had just managed to finish reading for one of his classes, he saw Combeferre and Courfeyrac wandering into the library frantically searching for him. Enjolras heard their voices calling his name and disturbing the peace and quiet, so he stood up and made his presence known to shush them. The men made their way over to him and in excited whispers both began talking at once,

“Lamarque is dead!”

“..Perfect time to rise..”

“We must act!”

“What!” Enjolras exclaimed, too loudly, earning harsh glares from those around him, “Lamarque is dead?” he recounted more quietly. Both men nodded aggressively, their faces displaying the excitement Enjolras felt rising in him. “Well come on then,” he gestured to them to follow as he hastily made his way out of the library.

“You know what this means don’t you?!” Combeferre exclaimed excitedly as soon as the men were on the street.

“Yes, of course,” Enjolras sighed exasperatedly. Ever since General Lamarque had gotten gravely ill late the week before all the men had talked about was using his potential funeral as an opportunity for their uprising. “Do the others know?”

“Some do—I sent that gamin, Gavroche, to go notify the others. We’re all supposed to meet at the café within the hour,” Courfeyrac informed him.

“Perfect,” Enjolras breathed as he gazed over the Parisian streets aglow with the mid-afternoon sun, “Let’s go there now and wait for everyone else to join.” The three men eagerly set off for the café to await their fellow compatriots.

_Eponine_

Eponine was standing in the middle of a busy intersection, keeping watch for her father as he burglarized some bourgeois, when she saw Marius hurrying down the street nearest to her. Managing to catch his eye, she waved and he came up to her, smiling. Surprisingly, his smile did not give Eponine the same attack of butterflies it usually did—confusion still left over from the night spent with Enjolras was the emotion that still gripped her as Marius drew near. She tried to push the feeling aside and managed to smile at him just as happily as she always did, “Bonjour Monsieur! I delivered your letter to Cosette last night,” she told him, trying her best to act cheerful about his new found love and finding it was not so hard to fake the emotion as it had been previously.

“Oh, thank you ‘Ponine! Did…Did she have a reply for me?” Marius stammered looking like a lost puppy as Eponine silently reached into her bodice and drew out the letter from Cosette. Marius’ eyes lit up as he took it, “Thank you very much mon ami,” he said touching her arm fondly. Eponine waited for the giddy feeling she usually got whenever he touched her, but it did not come. She frowned and looked around the streets as Marius read his letter, trying, once again unsuccessfully, to clear her head.

As she noticed Marius finishing the letter and putting it in his pocket, she reluctantly asked him, “Are you going to be needing me to take your reply?”

Eponine’s question appeared to have jolted Marius off a train of thought as he looked up, startled, and replied, “Er, no, well at least not right away.” Then, grabbing her hand, he exclaimed, “Eponine have you heard the news?!” looking at her with anticipation.

Eponine was so distracted when he touched her again—his touch resurfacing her doubt in her emotions—that it took her a minute to comprehend his question, finally answering, “No,” letting her voice trail off as she looked up to learn what he was so excited about.

“General Lamarque is dead!” Eponine thought that it was strange that Marius was so excited about the statesman’s demise, so she just stared at him blankly until he continued, speaking more softly this time, “we are going to use his funeral as a chance to stage our uprising. Come on, the others are all meeting at the café now,” he tugged at her arm trying to get her to follow him as he half ran down the street. As Eponine hurried behind Marius, she looked down the alley towards where she was supposed to be keeping watch for the police. No gendarmes seemed to be hanging around the square or adjoining streets. _He’ll be fine,_ she thought, turning and running to catch up with Marius, _and if he’s not—good riddance._ Being with Marius—and Enjolras, if she was being honest with herself, as their uprising began, was more important than helping her father with his petty crimes and money making schemes, no matter what the consequences might be for her later. 


	4. Chapter 4

Enjolras was in the middle of a heated conversation with Combeferre and Prouvaire when he heard the door to the café for what seemed to be the hundredth time that afternoon and he looked up hurriedly. He had been watching the door all afternoon as his friends had trickled into the café after hearing the news about Lamarque’s death. In the anticipation for what was to come, Enjolras had managed, for a while, to put Eponine out of his mind, but now as he saw her trailing in behind Marius, her head down and her cheeks bit flushed, he found himself just wanting to approach her and make sure that she was all right—that her hasty departure had not meant he had hurt her in any way. As he was watching her, she lifted her head slightly and met his gaze, before hastily looking away, the blush on her cheeks deepening as she slunk after Pontmercy to sit at a table with Grantaire. Enjolras felt a twinge of sadness that she was obviously embarrassed to see him and he could not reassure her that nothing had changed between them. _But it has, hasn’t it?_ He thought suddenly, the question surfacing in his mind before he could repress it. He shook his head to dispel that reflection as Combeferre reached out to put a hand on his arm.

“Mon ami,” the man said with evident concern, “what’s wrong? You’ve been glaring at the door for a number of minutes now.”

Enjolras wrenched his gaze from where Eponine had entered the café and focused on his friend’s face, “What, ah yes, I’m fine, what did you just say?” he stuttered, trying his best to concentrate on their previous conversation.

Combeferre gave him a look that said he was unconvinced, but continued on the topic of how best to rally the people on the day of Lamarque’s funeral, “Yes, well I was thinking that if we had several men with flags situated among the crowded then the people would know meant it was time to rise, that would probably be the best and most unobtrusive way. We do not want to let the National Guard be able to single out any one man as inciting the uprising” Prouvaire nodded in agreement and the two men began discussing this plan in more detail.

Enjolras interrupted the two men and suggested, “Perhaps such an important topic should be discussed amongst all of us,” With Combeferre and Prouvaire’s acquiescence, Enjolras stood before the room filled with his closest friends and brought the topic of rallying the people to discussion. As he spoke, he found that his eyes kept flicking over to where Eponine sat with Marius and Grantaire. The three of them were hardly paying attention. Grantaire was already too far gone in the bottle, even though it was only late afternoon, Marius had a love sick look about him and he kept whispering in Eponine’s ear, which was causing a rather deep frown line to appear on her forehead. Enjolras felt himself becoming irritated at Marius, partly for not paying attention when the uprising was so near, but more so for the pain he was obviously causing Eponine. When Enjolras noticed the pen and paper, Marius was working to conceal, he reached his breaking point.

“Marius!” Enjolras snapped, causing the boy’s head to jerk up and his cheeks to flush with the embarrassment of being caught not paying attention, “Do you not think we have more important things to do than write love letters right now?” Marius hung his head and Enjolras began to feel bad for singling his friend out, when others were not paying attention as well, “Lamarque’s funeral is only three days away,” he continued more gently and turning to the entire group, “we cannot afford to be distracted if we hope to be successful.” _And avoid a massacre_ , he added grimly, not voicing his greatest fears surrounding the uprising they were concocting. The men all solemnly nodded in agreement. Enjolras let his eyes’ shift to Eponine again and he saw that she was looking at him finally. Her gaze was as somber as he felt and she did not break his stare this time. As they looked at each other, he realized that she understood his fears and the terror he held that his friends’ lives were so very much in danger, and that they did not fully understand the peril of what they were doing. Enjolras finally broke the contact, looking down, finding the thought that she seemed to completely understand him, unnerving.

Enjolras did not look at Eponine for the rest of the meeting, feeling that it was surely noticeable how very hard he had to try to ensure he did not look in the direction of the corner in which she was sitting. Instead, he threw himself wholeheartedly into the final planning discussions of what was going to happen in three days time, when Lamarque’s funeral procession took to the streets.

As his friends made their way out of the café, Enjolras lagged behind, collecting his papers and books that had somehow become strewn all over the table he had placed them on when he came in. He felt the presence of someone behind him and turned around, already knowing who it would be. Eponine was standing there, waiting for him to finish, uneasily looking at her feet and moving her hands over skirt, clearly not certain if she should be there or not.

“You did not leave with Marius?” Enjolras asked her, confused, because he could have sworn he had seen her exit the café, even though he had been trying not to notice her.

Eponine made a face and replied, “I did, but I decided to come back,” she paused gauging his reaction and then continued, “I just wanted to make sure that you are all right. You looked really worried earlier in the meeting.”

Enjolras felt the ghost of a smile flit over his face at her concern, but her reminder of his worries for his friends did not allow it to grow. “I’m fine,” he told her, “I am just anticipating what the uprising will bring.”

She closed the distance between them and put her hand on his forearm, “I know you’re terrified,” she whispered, “You don’t have to hide it from me. You’re scared of what’s going to happen to all your friends.”

He looked at her, startled by her words; yes he was terrified. He had not admitted the strength of his fears even to himself before that moment. Still, he tried to mask his emotions from her—it unnerved him that she had read him so easily. “Well of course I am concerned about my friends’ safety—it would be inhuman to not be. However, I am confident in our cause. We have planned, we are prepared, and we have rallied the people. We shall persevere.” He gave her what felt like a rather haughty look and he immediately felt ashamed of himself for acting so superior to this girl. That was the complete opposite of how he should be acting. Every citizen of France should be treated as an equal; regardless of how unsettled she made him feel. The stare he was giving her wavered.

Eponine looked hurt that tonight he appeared to have brushed her concern to the side, whereas the night before he had welcomed her comfort. “Yes. Yes of course. You all will be fine,” she was staring at the ground again and had moved away from him, “well I guess I should be going them,” she looked up and met his eyes and hers held the look of suppressed tears and a forced smile graced her face as she tried to show the same optimism that he had falsely displayed. But then, she dropped her eyes to the ground and before Enjolras could move she ran out the door.

“Dammit,” he muttered, angry with himself for hurting Eponine just because he was scared that she understood him. He should be happy that someone wanted to be there to comfort him—she probably just wanted to return the favor from the previous night. He dropped the hand that he had stretched out in a desperate, failed attempt to grab Eponine before she made it to the door. Enjolras quickly scooped up his papers and books and rushed out the door after Eponine. He hated to think of her alone and upset on the streets at night because of him. The streets were never a safe place to be, but especially not now, with General Lamarque dead and the unrest that that event was inciting. Enjolras knew Eponine could take care of herself, but he did not want her to have to fend for herself—at least not tonight.

He made his way out of the café and took the way he thought it was most likely Eponine had gone. Enjolras hurried along the dark streets keeping his eyes peeled for the girl, hoping he would be able to find her quickly. _If not it’s going to be a long night_ , he thought, sighing internally, knowing he would have trouble going to his flat or sleeping if he did not make things right with Eponine.

As he passed a particularly shady alley he thought he heard a sob coming from the darkness. Enjolras tentatively made his way into the side street and saw a small figure with long brown hair, curled up against a wall, crying quietly. “Eponine?” he called cautiously.

Eponine’s head popped up and there were tears streaming down her face, leaving clean marks amidst the dirt and grime on her face, but her eyes were angry. “What do you want?” she spat irritably.

Enjolras discarded his books on the ground and went over to sit next to her, which caused her to stiffen and move so there was space between them. “I’m sorry,” he began. Eponine would not look at him—her eyes were trained on the street next to them.

“It’s fine; you made it perfectly clear you don’t need me around for comfort tonight. You were obviously feeling fine when I caught your eye during the meeting,” she muttered sarcastically, adding more quietly, “Even though you’re not.”

 “I’m sorry about that,” Enjolras whispered, “you were just trying to be a good friend, and I shouldn’t have pushed you away.”

Eponine still seemed distant, but she turned to face him as she said accusingly, “I deserted my father this afternoon to come be with you as this uprising is begun,” she paused and then added hastily, “and Marius. To be with you and Marius.” Eponine sighed and the anger in her eyes dissipated and was replaced by fear, “My father is going to kill me when I get home”

Enjolras, who had felt his heart soar when she said that she had defied her father to come be with him, felt another, more bitter emotion building inside of him. When he realized that this not oft felt emotion was jealously that she had felt the need to assert that she had also wanted to be with Marius, he struggled to push the confusing emotion aside and focus on the fact that Eponine was probably in physical danger if she went home. He had seen her come into the café often enough struggling to hide a black eye or bruises on her arms, to know that she was frequently beaten at home. He feared her statement about her father was not too much of an exaggeration.

He moved closer to her and was relieved when she did not move away, “are you going to go home soon?” he inquired softly as he reached up to gently wipe the tears off her cheeks.

Eponine looked at him dejectedly, “I suppose so; what else can I do?” As she thought about what awaited her at home, Enjolras saw the life go from her eyes and she shuddered.

He decided then and there that he would do anything in his power to shelter her from her father—for tonight at least. He hated how the idea of facing her father made her a shell of the Eponine he had begun to fall in lov--Enjolras’ thoughts came to a crashing halt. _What_ _was that?_ He deliberated. He was not in love with Eponine. He could not be. Wasn’t love a distraction, as he had continually told Marius and the other men over the last few weeks? As Enjolras thought of Marius he decided that it most certainly was a distraction. He did not—and could not—love Eponine—especially not with the uprising he had been planning and working towards for the past years, now only days away.

Briefly he reconsidered his decision to not allow Eponine to face her father. Enjolras felt like he should distance himself from the confusing girl currently sitting next to him. However as he watched her, and saw some stray tears falling down her cheeks, he realized he could not let his conflicting emotions get in the way of protecting her.

Enjolras cleared his throat and offered, “Eponine, you could stay with me, if you don’t want to go home.” When she did not say anything he added, “I really am sorry, truly”

Eponine shakily smiled at him and said, “I know you are—I just don’t know if I should delay the inevitable.”

“Facing your father you mean?”

She nodded, “When I ditched him, I was supposed to be watching for gendarmes. He’s going to be really angry with me,” Eponine shivered.

“He beats you, doesn’t he?” Enjolras stated flatly. When Eponine looked startled, he further added, “I told you last night that I’ve been watching you. I see when you come in and you have bruises or black eyes and you try to hide them or avoid the others so they do not mention them” Eponine gaped at him, semi-amazed at how observant he was, in spite of all the work that always seemed to have him so absorbed. “I’m right aren’t I?” Enjolras asked quietly, not wanting to be, but sure he was all the same judging from Eponine's reaction. When Eponine nodded meekly, Enjolras knew that he had to get her to come home with him. He stood up and offered her his hand, which after a moment’s hesitation she took. When they were standing he drew her into his arms and ghosted his hands over her back, wanting to console her, but not sure if she would let him. “Please let me take you to my home. I’ll protect you. I promise.”

Eponine looked up at him, a glint of stubbornness returned to her eyes, and said fiercely, “I don’t _need_ protection.”

Enjolras sighed, slightly frustrated with the strong willed girl and replied a little sarcastically, “Fine, I won’t protect you, but at least let me give you a safe haven for the night. Stay with me; avoid your father for a while. Maybe by the time you go back he’ll forget you ditched him.”

Her face twisted into a look of skepticism. “He won’t forget,” she whispered.

“Then don’t go back. At least stay with me until the uprising. After that we’ll be facing a changed France—you might actually be able to have an occupation and not need to be supported by your scum of a father,” Enjolras said, with more hope than he felt regarding the outcomes of their planned uprising. In his heart he knew it was a long shot that they were successful, but if he could at least protect Eponine for the remainder of the time he had leading up to the uprising he would feel better. When Eponine still looked cynical, he moved his face closer to hers and breathed into her ear, “Please? Please stay with me. It will make me feel so much better to know you’re safe.” He felt awkward having freely bared his feelings to her and could not look at her face as he waited for a response.

He heard her sigh and felt her body relax against his so he wrapped his arms more tightly around her as Eponine relented, “All right, I’ll come stay with you if it’ll make you happy.”

At that Enjolras felt less embarrassed, so he was able to look down and meet her eyes again. He saw the hint of a smile on her face, so he returned it and said, “Yes it would. Very much so.” Then, he kissed her on the forehead. As he pulled away he saw questions arising in her eyes regarding the very tender kiss. He did not comment on it, because he felt the same questions rising in him and he did not have any answers. So he simply picked up his abandoned books and papers, took her hand, and led her away from the dark alley. 


	5. Chapter 5

The sense of déjà vu was strong, as Eponine happily woke up next to Enjolras for the second morning in a row. This morning though, her back did not scream out in discomfort from sleeping awkwardly half on the couch and half on Enjolras. Late last night they had forsaken the discomfort of the couch for Enjolras’ bed. As Eponine thought over the events of the previous night, she sighed, smiled, and burrowed further into Enjolras’ arms.

            The night had been much like the one before it, in that when they had arrived at Enjolras’ flat he had fed her and they ended up on his couch. Enjolras had put his arm around her, which she had allowed, even leaning into his embrace. Neither had seemed to want to talk about what was happening. Eponine knew she did not. There were too many questions that she was scared of answering and sitting with Enjolras’ arms around her made her feel safe and warm and happy—not feelings that she usually had the luxury of feeling.

Eponine had thought she knew what contentment felt like, previously, when Marius had briefly touched or hugged her, but the giddy, longing for more, feeling that those actions had always left her with was nothing compared to the intensity of the sense of ease and happiness she had sitting there in Enjolras’ arms. Eponine found herself hoping that Enjolras would kiss her again, as he had the night before, but unfortunately, he did not.

As they spent the night talking, Eponine found herself thinking again and again about what a multifaceted person Enjolras was. He spoke of his love for France and his belief and hopes for a new republic after the uprising. His passion for those less fortunate than him inspirered her, and Eponine began to understand how Enjolras had gotten all these school boys to follow him into rebellion, almost blindly. When Enjolras talked of a brighter, more equal France, it was impossible not to see the same visions he must see and impossible to not want it as well.

            Enjolras had also been rather insistent in making Eponine discuss herself. His questioning had not been unwanted; it was just that the desire he had to actually know her was scary. Eponine did not see why the ambitious school boy would ever want to know about her dark past. She found herself revealing more about her life than she had to anyone else, even Marius, and Enjolras did not judge her. Rather, he seemed fascinated to learn about how she had already persevered through so many obstacles in her eighteen short years. While she had recounted the countless times she had been fiercely beaten by her father and his gang, to her horror she had begun to cry. Enjolras had even pulled her close to him and let her cry softly into his shirt. Enjolras, however, had just held her, and stroked her hair, while offering comforting words, until she had recollected herself enough to continue her story.

            When they realized that it was far past midnight, Enjolras had graciously offered to let her sleep on his bed, but Eponine had not wanted to make him sleep on the couch. Nor did she want to leave his arms for the night, so she had suggested that they share the bed. When she proposed that, Enjolras had flushed slightly and fear had pooled in his eyes. He stammered in response, so she had just smiled, taken his hand, and led him to his room.

Eponine did not know what had come over Enjolras—the first night she had spent at his flat, he had kissed her like he did not want to stop. Then last night, while he had held her practically the whole night and seemed to be interested in learning more about her, he had also seemed a little stiff; like he was scared he might kiss her again. In fact, a couple of times he looked to be leaning toward her, eyes on her lips, but had caught himself, and pulled back. It was not until he had fallen asleep, lying next to her, that he had seemed to relax. He had been gripping her to him tightly when she had finally drifted off.

            Now, in the morning, Eponine had no desire to leave. She had no more desire to run from her emotions. She liked being with Enjolras—even more than she liked being with Marius. As Eponine admitted that to herself, she felt a stab of panic as she thought about what Enjolras could possibly feel. There was no way he could feel the same. Regardless of how strange he had been acting last night. Regardless of how close he had held her the entire night. There was no way he could ever _really_ see her as more than Marius’ pathetic shadow—she was just an under educated, heart sick, gamine. Eponine shifted in Enjolras’ arms to look at his face. Staring at the peaceful face of the angelic revolutionary, Eponine knew then that she had begun to fall in love with him and the kindness he had shown her. She mournfully sighed, also knowing she was in for heart break yet again.

            Her movements had stirred Enjolras and he grunted and blinked his eyes furiously as they adjusted to the sunlight spilling in through the window. He looked down, at Eponine and his face looked slightly surprised, but then as the events of the previous evening appeared to come back to him, his expression relaxed into a pleasant smile and he tightened his arms around her and pressed a kiss to her forehead.

            “Good morning,” he whispered his lips still on her forehead.

            She exhaled softly, “Good morning,” she sighed, smiling up at him. He returned her tentative smile, with a stunning one—it was a smile that Eponine feared could plant a seed of hope in her heart.

            “Did you sleep well?” he asked still trying to blink the sleep out of his eyes.

            Eponine just nodded her head against his chest. She had slept better than she ever had, including the prior night that she had spent in his arms on the couch. They lay there for a few more moments, before Enjolras tugged his arm from underneath Eponine and climbed out of bed. “Are you hungry?” he asked her. She nodded again; she was always hungry. Enjolras smiled and said he would go see what he had for breakfast. As he moved away from her, Eponine suddenly missed the feeling of his body lying next to hers. The bed that had seemed so warm and welcoming with him in it now seemed foreign. Eponine scrambled out of bed and followed Enjolras into the main living area.

            He was busy gathering food in the kitchen, but she went up to him and spontaneously wound her arms around his torso, burying her head into his back. Enjolras stopped what he was doing and turned to face Eponine with a surprised look on his face. “What’s this for?” he questioned, “I thought you would stay in bed for a while longer.”

            Eponine did not her head, but whispered, “Thank you.”

            Enjolras rubbed her back gently. “You’re welcome,” he chuckled, “For what?”

            Eponine wanted to say, _for feeding me, for letting me sleep here, for making me forget Marius, for making me fall in love with you instead of Marius regardless of how much it will hurt when you don’t love me back_ , but she was still scared to voice her real emotions to him. She was scared to be vulnerable, but she did allow herself to open up a little as she admitted, “for protecting me last night.”

            He smiled and just held her close for a few minutes. Finally he murmured, “I am always happy to help you,” and then, pulling away, he turned and picked up the food he had been preparing. Carrying it over and sitting it on the table, Enjolras turned back to Eponine and asked, “Now did you have anything that you need to do today?”

            Following after him, Eponine shook her head, “No monsieur. Just hope to avoid my father.”

            Enjolras frowned either at her use of the formality or the statement about her father, Eponine was not sure. “Don’t call me monsieur, Eponine. I will always be Enjolras to you.” She smiled at him, and he took her hand and pulled her down into the chair next to him. “Why don’t you spend the day with me? The some of the others and I were going to go to some of the poorer parts of the city, to try and rally the people to our cause.”

            Eponine frowned; wandering through the poorer sections of town did not seem like a good way to avoid her father, “That’s probably where my father will be.” She stated.

            Enjolras thought for a moment and then suggested, “Why don’t I let you borrow some of my clothes? You can dress up like a boy so he won’t recognize you. Besides you’ll be with me and the other boys, so if he tries to hurt you we’ll be there to stop him.”

            Eponine did not like the idea of Enjolras or any of his friends standing up to her father, but she very much wanted to spend the afternoon with him. There was just another worry that was nagging her, “is Marius going to be there?” she asked, hoping he would not take her question the wrong way. She did not really want to see Marius—she found herself just wanting to focus on Enjolras.

            She watched Enjolras’ face fall as he mistook the meaning of her question. _Can I really blame him?_ She thought, as she also wondered at the fact that he seemed upset that she cared whether or not Marius would be there. “No I don’t think so,” Enjolras answered grimly, “At least not until later in the day—he has several classes this morning that the majority of us don’t”. It was a curious thing, but Eponine thought his expression seemed more sullen and flat than it had a moment ago, before she had asked about Marius.

            Eponine smiled happily up at him and replied, “Well in that case, I’d be happy to join you on your ramblings around the city today.”

            At her cheerful reply upon discovering that Marius was not likely to be joining them, Enjolras looked so confused that Eponine decided to take a chance. She leaned over toward him and kissed him soundly on the mouth. He seemed surprised, but responded after a second, his hand finding its way into her hair in an effort to keep her lips on his. Eponine pulled back and looked at him, still smiling. He returned her smile with a questioning one, but then he leaned forward to kiss her again.

After a few moments, their breakfast had been forgotten, and Enjolras had led Eponine over to the couch and he was urgently clutching her small body to his as he planted a series of fervent kisses on her lips. Her hands were tangled in his hair and his did not stray from her waist. All the questions and emotions that had been wordlessly brewing in the quiet of their minds were thrown into those kisses. When Eponine could barley think for lack of oxygen, Enjolras finally broke away and placed his forehead on hers. Both were breathing heavily as they stared into each others’ eyes.

            “Well,” Eponine breathed, still looking Enjolras in the eye.

            “Yes,” he began, giving her another questioning look, “what was that?”

            Eponine shrugged, pulling away, suddenly feeling a little bit self conscious. She did not know how to go about expressing all the things she was feeling, so she just told him, “I like kissing you.” He gave her another look and she sighed, her shoulders sagging, and she placed her hand on his cheek, “Look, I don’t _know_ what this is, but I like it. Can that be enough of an answer?”

            He silently searched her eyes for a moment before he wrapped his arms around her and whispered in her ear, “yes that’s perfect. I,” he paused and pulled back slightly so he was looking in her eyes once again, “I like this too.”

            She smiled and nuzzled her head back into the crook of his neck and they stayed that way for several moments. As they heard bells in the city begin to chime the hour, Eponine remembered their earlier plans for the day. She broke the embrace and stood up, walking away from Enjolras, toward his bedroom.

            “What are you doing?” he questioned, half standing, getting ready to follow her.

            “Didn’t you say we were going to roam around the slums today? I believe you also said something about me borrowing your clothes?”

            Enjolras swore under his breath and in a flash was in his room, throwing a pair of pants, shirt, waistcoat, and cravat, her way. Eponine scooped up the clothes from where they had fallen on the floor. She made her way out of the room so Enjolras could change, smiling to herself, knowing she was in for an enjoyable afternoon.

**********

            Eyes ablaze with the fire of revolution, Enjolras spent the day attempting to rally the lower class people that lived in the slums of France. Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and he, along with Eponine rather unconvincingly disguised as a school boy and a distracted Prouvaire went from apartment building to apartment building, talking to the people, hearing their concerns, and offering financial assistance when they could.

            Eponine had hung back and kept her head down desperate not to be recognized, but Enjolras had made sure she was always between at least two of the other men, just in case her father or one of the members of his gang should appear. Enjolras had unofficially put Prouvaire in charge of watching Eponine. He was glad he had, as he noted Eponine laughing several times as Prouvaire went on and on about the wildflowers growing haphazardly in places around Paris. _She’s so pretty when she laughs_ , he thought. He was realizing, especially after kissing her again this morning that he was really beginning to care for Eponine. He wanted to protect her from her father at all costs. He wanted to make her happy. And he desperately wanted to kiss her again. He found it hard to avoid reaching out to try and grab her hand or touch her arm when she came up at one point to tell him something. He had to keep reminding himself of the distraction that women were—more than ever now he knew he had been right in that assertion. The uprising was a day away and all he wanted to do was talk to and kiss Eponine. Enjolras internally groaned. He was being just as ridiculous as his friends. _She’s just a girl_ , his head screamed, but his heart was telling him something else. His self-focused frustration soften as he watched Eponine happily playing some sort of skipping game with several little girls and Prouvaire as Courfeyrac and Combeferre spoke with some adults nearby. Enjolras had to admit he found her quite captivating. While he was pondering this, he saw a menacing figure lunge out of the shadows toward Eponine.


	6. Chapter 6

“Eponine!” she heard Enjolras cry and startled, she looked up to see him running toward her. She saw the fear in his eyes and seeing where his gaze was directed, turned to see a leering Montparnasse reaching to grab her. She shrieked and managed to punch him in the eye, which caused him to falter in his attack. This gave the Amis enough time to surround her and suddenly a seething Enjolras was in front of her, standing between her and Montparnasse.

            By this time, Montparnasse had managed to collect himself and started advancing toward Eponine again, for the moment ignoring the four men that were ready to defend her. “Enjolras, please, don’t,” she pleaded for him to not put himself in danger for her. At her plea, Montparnasse looked up and noticed the figures encircling Eponine. He appeared to be eyeing the men, judging whether or not apprehending Eponine was worth facing taking on all of them.

            Seemingly deciding she was not worth the fight, he settled for glowering at her and commenting, “So how did you get these _gentlemen_ ,” he sneered, “to stand up for a whore like you?” When she did not grace his crude remark with a reply he continued, “Your father wants you. Your little escape act yesterday almost got us caught.” Eponine flinched at the reminder of how she had deserted her father and knowing how angry he was going to be when he finally got his hands on her. “You know it’ll only be worse if you don’t go back now,” Montparnasse pointed out.

            Eponine opened her mouth to agree and say she probably should be getting back home, but before she could speak, Enjolras quickly interjected, “She’s not going _anywhere_ near her father.” His face was red, and his eyes were scorching; he looked quite angry.

            She reached out and gently touched his back and his stance softened slightly, but his eyes did not leave Montparnasse. “I really should go home now. I have to face my father sooner or later and he’s right,” she indicated Montparnasse, “it will be so much worse the longer I’m away.”

Flicking his gaze from Combeferre to Montparnasse, to indicate that the former should watch the later, Enjolras turned to Eponine and fixed his steely gaze on her. “You are not going back to your house; not now, not ever. I won’t let you be beaten” His expression was pained as he spoke of her potentially being abused.

She grasped his wrist and softly stated, “You won’t always be able to protect me,” unable to meet his eye. She felt his fist tighten in her grasp and heard him audibly swallow.

“I am going to protect you.” He affirmed, taking her hands in his, eyes dark yet determined. She sighed, but nodded, assenting, all the while knowing that putting off facing her father would make it so much worse for her after Enjolras was not longer there to defend her.

            Enjolras turned back toward Montparnasse and coldly stated, “You. Need to leave. Now.”

            The scrawnier man did not acknowledge him, but instead spoke to Eponine, “I was trying to help you, you _garce._ Don’t come crying to me when your father finally gets his hands on you.” As he slunk off into the alleyway, Eponine shuddered and Enjolras wrapped an arm around her.

            “Come on,” he said to the others, “Let’s be on our way back to the café.” As the group silently made their way back to the Musain, Eponine noticed the other three men kept shooting each other puzzled looks as they followed behind Enjolras, who was still gripping Eponine to his side.

            The group burst through the door of the café, causing an already drunk Grantaire to break off his loud singing and stare at them from his usual corner of the room. With Enjolras finally releasing her, Eponine squeezed his hand and slipped over to join Grantaire—after all the drama with Montparnasse, she felt like she could use a drink.

xxxxxxxxxxx

            Enjolras watched her walk over toward the drunk, his fear turning into annoyance as he saw her accept a mug of liquor and take a swig. The last thing he needed to deal with was a drunken Eponine. Turning, he saw all three of his friends standing behind him watching him with the same quizzical expression.

            “Mon ami,” Combeferre was the first one to speak, touching his arm as he did, “what was that?”

            Enjolras groaned and pulled away from his friend, “What do you mean? I was only protecting the girl,” he said moving away and heading toward the opposite end of the café from where Grantaire and Eponine were drinking. This was a conversation he would rather have out of their hearing.

            “You held onto her like she was life itself the whole way back here. I’d say that’s more than just protecting her for her own sake,” Courfeyrac interjected.

            Enjolras ran a hand through his hair in frustration, “I was just concerned for her, Courfeyrac. I didn’t want anyone else trying to grab her off the street.” He sank down into a chair; suddenly feeling very tired, and rested his head in his hands, hoping his friends would leave him alone.

            “I’d say, Enjolras, you were _rather_ concerned with her,” Prouvaire pointed out quietly, “It’s not like you to be so concerned for a woman.”

            “Or to touch one so much!” Courfeyrac proclaimed jovially, slapping Enjolras on the back.

            Enjolras glared up at the grinning man, “Let it go, Courfeyrac,” he practically sneered, causing his friend to back up with his hands in the air in a sign of surrender.

            Combeferre shooed the other two men away and sat down next to his friend. Enjolras and he were childhood friends and Enjolras knew that he at least was not going to let the subject go without a serious explanation. However, Enjolras was thankful that he had sent away the two that just wished to tease, no matter how good naturedly. “Come friend,” Combeferre began, “What is going on with you and Mademoiselle Eponine? You already told us that she slept at your place last night and you seemed stressed at the idea that she might come to harm,” he paused, studying his friend, “You did touch her quite, freely mon ami,” he added quietly, “That is not like you at all.”

            Enjolras sighed again and turned to address his friend, “I don’t know Combeferre; I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” he stopped before adding even more hushed, “I’ve kissed her.”

            Combeferre’s eyes grew wide at the admission, but he kept his voice level when he asked, “Do you love her?”

            At the question, Enjolras’ head jerked up and he sputtered, “No, no of course not. I can’t let anything like that be a distraction. We are planning our strike in a day!” But he knew it was a lie. Enjolras felt that the falsehood that had just come out of his mouth was so strong it must be tangible in the air between them. He grimaced and hoped his oldest friend would have the tact to not completely call him out on the untruth.

            Combeferre just gave him a knowing smile, squeezed his forearm, and nodded, before he went over to join the others, giving Enjolras a moment to collect himself. Enjolras sat there, with his head in his hands, fingers gripping his hair, thinking over the situation.

From the way Combeferre reacted, Enjolras knew that his friend thought him already in love with Eponine. Enjolras knows he cares for her, but love is such a foreign concept to him—he is not sure how he would even go about identifying such feelings in someone else, much less experience it himself. He looked over at the girl, who is on her second mug of whatever foul liquor Grantaire is providing her. Her face is slightly flushed and she is laughing. As he watched her, Enjolras felt his face relaxing into a soft smile. _If this isn’t love, it’s something close_ , he decided, and walked over to where Eponine is sitting.

Seeing him heading towards her, Eponine smiled at him. Enjolras leaned down and pressed a kiss to the top of her head, before squeezing her arm, and turning to join Combeferre and Courfeyrac at the other table. When he looked back at Eponine, she was giving him a slightly inquisitive look, and the smile on her face was subtle, but Enjolras saw it and just smirked back at her, causing her to blush and refocus her attention on her drink and Grantaire. Sitting down next to his friends, all of whom were grinning meaningfully at him, he just shook his head and started going over their attack plans.

            Pontmercy stumbled into the café about an hour later, his eyes bright and rimmed in shadows, exhaustion from the day of classes clear on his face. He groaned and threw a stack of books down on the table that Enjolras, Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Prouvaire were seated around.

            “It’s such a strain being in class when I’d rather be with Cosette; or helping with the uprising,” Marius exclaimed, flinging himself into a chair next to Combeferre. The other men rolled their eyes at the mention of Marius’ love, but he did not notice, “Well, did you accomplish anything down in the slums today?” he asked looking around at his friends.

            Enjolras cleared his throat, “Actually yes, we were able to talk to and help a good many of the city’s poor. We plan to return tomorrow to cover another half of the district,” he informed Marius.

            “Excellent!” Marius grasped Enjolras arm and then turned surveying the café. He frowned as his gaze fell on Eponine, “What is Eponine doing here already? And drinking with Grantaire?”

            Combeferre, Courfeyrac, and Prouvaire turned with smirking faces to look at Enjolras. Enjolras felt his cheeks heat up and he grumbled, “What is wrong with all of you,” which just made their grins grow larger.

            Marius turned to him and asked, “What was that?”

            Enjolras shook his head, “Nothing Marius, Eponine just went with us today—she’s been with us all day.” He really did not feel like discussing the complexities of Eponine and his situation with anyone, especially Marius. He would let Eponine tell him what she wanted him to know, particularly because Enjolras realized he did not even know what Eponine was thinking in regards to Marius anymore. Enjolras thought she was enjoying spending time with him, but he did not know whether or not Marius completely out of the picture.

            “I’m going to go talk to her,” Marius said and headed over toward Eponine.

            Enjolras watched as Marius went up to the girl and sat down next to her. Eponine smiled at him, but it seemed to be a bit of a forced smile. Marius appeared to be questioning her, and a couple times his gaze flitted over towards Enjolras, who would then quickly glance away. Enjolras saw Eponine flush and say something that appeared angry as Marius looked taken aback and mumbled one more remark before slinking back over to Enjolras’ table.

            “She’s been staying with you?” Marius asked Enjolras flatly.

            Enjolras grimaced, “Yes Marius, she’s safe now, what’s it to you? Upset because she can no longer be your letter carrier?” he growled.

            Marius looked shocked at Enjolras’ tone. “I just think it is strange is all,” he muttered, glancing at the others at the table to see them all snickering. “What is it?” he asked, suddenly looking at Enjolras curiously now.

            Enjolras knew he was scowling, “Never mind them,” he snarled, but he could not take his friends’ teasing anymore, so he said, “I’ll be outside,” and stomped out the door. He leaned up against the side of the building with his arms crossed and tried not to let his temper get the best of him. He knew his friends meant well and were just happy to see him actually showing an interest in a woman. He thought they really should be more concerned that he was being distracted with the uprising just a day away, but at least they were not angry with him.

            As he stood there thinking this over he became aware of another person leaning up against the wall next to him. Rotating to the side, he saw Eponine propped up against the wall watching him.

            “Bonjour,” she said her face impassive. He realized then that he did not know exactly what she had told Marius.

            “Bonjour mademoiselle,” he replied, leaning over to brush a strand of hair out of her face. She blushed and bit her lip as he did so, “are you done being corrupted by our resident drunk?”

            Grinning, Eponine answered, “It was a tiring day, don’t I deserve a drink? I think I might need another one after talking to Marius.” She broke his gaze and looked down at the ground. “He wanted answers about _why_ I have been hanging around with you, but I think my response only served to make him as confused about what this,” she gestured between the two of them, “is as I am.

            “And what,” he cupped the back of her neck, “do you think this is?”

            She sighed as she leaned into his touch and tried to answer, “I told you this morning, I don’t really know. I like being with you and talking to you and I haven’t been pining over Marius at all today. I didn’t feel the same way I used to when he touched me or spoke with me. Not at all close to the way I feel when you touch me,” Eponine looked at the ground suddenly shy. In the next instant though she was looking up at Enjolras and demanding, “What do you think this is?”

            Enjolras closed the distance between them and pressed his lip to Eponine’s. “I find,” another kiss, “that I am very much starting to care about you,” he kissed her again, but this kiss was more forceful and he slipped his tongue briefly into her mouth to tangle with hers before continuing, “and I want to keep you safe and make you happy.” Smiling up at him, Eponine initiated the next kiss, entwining her fingers in his hair and pulling his lips down to meet hers. They broke apart after several minutes and Enjolras twisted his arms around Eponine. Sighing she rested her head on his chest and they stood there embracing in the street.

This had not gone on quite as long as Enjolras would have wished, before Courfeyrac poked his head out the door of the café and catching sight of them, he beamed, and came sauntering over.

            “Well Enjolras, if you’re done smooching your lovely lady,” Courfeyrac smiled and winked kindly at Eponine, “the rest of us have some things we would like to discuss with you.”

            “Fine Courfeyrac,” Enjolras said, “I’ll be inside in a minute.”

            With another smile at Eponine and a wink at Enjolras, Courfeyrac went back inside and Enjolras looked down at the girl still standing in his arms. She had a look of contentment on her face and it made him happy to see her not looking scared or worried for once. He kissed her on the forehead and whispered, “Obviously, I am wanted inside. I do hope you’ll stay—you’re welcome to stay for the entire meeting. And I hope you’ll strongly consider staying with me again tonight.”

            Eponine nodded, “Of course I’m staying for the whole meeting and of course I’m coming home with you tonight. If I were to go home now my father would probably kill me, so I have nowhere else to go,” she informed him, “and since you’re offering...” her voice trailed off. 

Enjolras grimaced at the mention of the danger she was facing, but decided to be grateful that she was going to remain in his presence for the next several hours and attempted to put it out of his mind. Nodding and smiling at her, he led her back into the café.

Eponine walked over to rejoin Grantaire and Enjolras tried to push thoughts of her to the back of his mind. He gritted his teeth as he sat down and tried to focus on the conversation going on around him. _Women are a distraction_ he firmly decided. But sneaking a glance over at Eponine, and watching as she threw her head back and laughed at something Grantaire said, he could not help but think that she was a worthy distraction. Smiling, he somehow managed to renew his focus and, save for several glimpses in her direction; he one way or another was able to keep his thoughts on revolution and off Eponine for the majority of the evening. 


	7. Chapter 7

Eponine spent a third night in Enjolras’ flat. And then a fourth. And they spent the day in between together. Which went very much like the first they had spent together, save for a very welcome lack of Montparnasse trying to abduct her.

Now it was June 5th and General Lamarque’s funeral procession was set to take place in the late morning. Enjolras had been up since dawn, pacing around the flat, collecting things, and muttering to himself. Eponine had woken up when Enjolras had originally left the bed, but she had pretended to be asleep and was lying there listening to him and watching him through half closed eyes.

She was worried. Enjolras and the other school boys were planning on using Lamarque’s funeral procession as an opportunity for revolt. She knew they were counting on the people to rise to fight behind them, but Eponine knew the people. They were afraid and were more concerned about where their next meal was going to come from than they were about equality and freedom. Most were too uneducated to realize that those concepts taking affect would mean more food or at least the opportunity to have honest work. Eponine did not think this revolt was going to go well. She greatly feared for Enjolras’ going off to fight for his ideals. She had just found him; just realized that she loved him, or felt something close to love, and she did not want to lose him now. But she knew there was nothing she could do to protect him or stop him. If she would have been able to stop him, he would not be the Enjolras that she was learning to love. He was fully committed to his goal of a free France and more importantly he was fully committed to his friends—the men whom he had led thus far into revolt and he would never desert them. The only thing Eponine could do was to insist that she be allowed to accompany the men into the fight today. And when Enjolras tried to stop her, as she was sure he would, she would have to steal some of his clothes again and sneak into the barricade that they were planning on building.

            When Eponine felt that the sun was high enough in the sky that it must be a reasonable hour for waking, she stretched and abandoned the comfort of the bed to go find Enjolras in the main part of the flat and face whatever horrors the day might bring.

            She found him at the table, pouring over pages of notes, still muttering to himself. Eponine went up behind him and nuzzled her face in the crook of his neck. He jumped when her nose touched his skin, but then reached out and fondly patted her arm, before turning his attention back to his papers. Eponine sighed and went into the kitchen to scavenge for food. She was quickly beginning to feel at home with Enjolras in his flat and she _hated_ that the peaceful routine they had somehow fallen into over the past couple of days was going to be brutally ripped away from them by the plagues of revolution.

            Finding some bread and cheese, Eponine went back to join Enjolras at the table. As she sat there eating, she said quietly to her plate, “I’m coming with you, you know.”

            Enjolras jerked his head up and stared at her in terror, “No you will not. You are staying right here where you will be safe.”

            Eponine scoffed and boldly told him, “You know you can’t stop me right? Might as well just willingly let me come.”

            Enjolras looked at her angrily for a few moments, but he must have recognized the belligerent look she was trying to give him, because his face softened and he reluctantly gave in, “Fine. You can come. But you have to promise me you’ll try to stay out of the fighting,” he reached across the table for her hand, “I don’t want you to get hurt.”

            She rubbed her thumb across the back of his hand and assured him, “I won’t get hurt. I promise. I just need to make sure that _you_ will be safe too.”

            Enjolras was shaking his head, “No, you mustn’t concern yourself with my safety. I will be fine. We are prepared and the people will rise behind us. You must just ensure you keep yourself out of harm’s way.” He sounded sure, but she could see the fear he actually felt reflected in his eyes.

            Eponine squeezed his hand and tried to give him a brave smile and show him confidence, but she was as unsure as he felt. They sat there in silence for several minutes with Enjolras reading and Eponine eating. When she was finished, Eponine went back into Enjolras’ room and put on the set of his clothes that she had been wearing for the past few days. When he came in after a while and saw her all ready to go, dressed as a boy, Enjolras went over to her and put his arms around her. Eponine wound her arms around him and they stood there, pressed together, with Enjolras’ head resting on Eponine’s, for countless moments, each cherishing the last few minutes together before the fighting began. Enjolras broke the embrace, and started getting ready himself. When he was ready, they both looked around the flat a little mournfully, before making their way out into the crowded streets.

            When they reached the square where the rest of the Amis were gathering, Eponine squeezed Enjolras’ hand and went off to join Marius toward the other end of the group. Marius gave her a strange look as she moved to stand next to him that she tried to ignore. He had spent the past day and a half trying to question her about her relationship with Enjolras and just being put out about her sleeping arrangements. Frankly, she was getting tired of it. Eponine felt that Marius had no right to question her choices or the fact that she was now reasonably safe and starting to find something resembling happiness—if they could just get through the next few days with all of their lives intact, then they could be truly happy.

            “How’s Enjolras,” Marius practically sneered at her when Eponine reached him.

            Eponine sighed; apparently he was not willing to let it go, even when they were about to try and overthrow the government. “He’s fine Marius,” she said through gritted teeth. Then she decided that she had had enough of his emotional abuse, “What is it to you anyway Marius? Why do you care so much? I’m happy for once. You never noticed me. Enjolras did. Get over it.” She spat at him and then went to turn away and try to find Grantaire. The drunk would be a much better companion throughout this tribulation than Marius.

            Marius grabbed her arm as she tried to slip past him, “Wait Eponine,” she turned and he looked apologetic, “What do you mean I never noticed you?” she grimaced—she had not realized she had let that slip out.

            “Never mind Marius. It’s not important now,” she sighed and tried to tug her arm away.

            “I’m sorry Eponine. I don’t know why I’m being so awful, I just never expected to see you with someone like Enjolras,” he released her arm, but Eponine did not leave him like she had planned on. Now she was curious and wanted to know what he meant.

            “What’s wrong with Enjolras,” she asked more than slightly offended. Enjolras was twice the man Marius was in her newly formed opinion.

            Marius balked, “Well, nothing. Nothing’s wrong with Enjolras. It’s just. Well. I don’t really know what I mean,” he sighed, “Enjolras is a great man,” he finally relented.

            Eponine stared at him, trying to figure out what he actual thought. Then, it dawned on her, “You never saw me with _anyone_ did you? To you I’ve always just been this little gamine who follows you around like a puppy and can run errands for you. That’s it isn’t it?” she demanded of him, suddenly very angry. Eponine took the look of discomfort on Marius’ face as a sign that she was right and she stormed off angrily. He did not try to stop her this time.

            Making her way through the swarm of bodies toward where Grantaire stood at the back of his group of friends, Eponine caught Enjolras’ eye. She saw that his were ablaze. He looked so powerful and intimidating standing at the edge of the crowd, grasping a blood red flag, his beacon toward a new republic. His fearsomeness took her breath away and she stopped for a moment just watching him as he watch her. She saw he had an eyebrow cocked at her and she realized that her cheeks felt flushed and her forehead was scrunched up with her anger. Eponine made her face relax, but she rolled her eyes toward Marius and Enjolras gave her a little smirk of understanding—he knew how Marius had been questioning her profusely. As he turned back toward the street, Eponine looked in the direction he was facing and felt fear grip her heart. She saw the funeral procession making its way toward where they stood. She knew it was only a few more moments before it all began.

            Quickly, Eponine moved to the outskirts of the group to stand with Grantaire. She noticed he had actually put on a full set of clothes for once, he was wearing a jacket and did not look as disheveled as usual, but he was still clutching a small bottle of some alcoholic substance.

            “Ready?” Eponine whispered to him, grabbing his empty hand.

            Grantaire took a swig of his drink and turned to her, offering her the bottle, “Now I am.”

            Eponine took a sip of the drink wincing as the harsh liquor slipped down her throat. Handing the bottle back to Grantaire they turned to watch as the procession inched closer to their group of friends.


	8. Chapter 8

The procession had just edged past his group of friends when Enjolras gave the briefest of nods, then jumped out into the street and began waving his blood red flag. Many of his cohorts followed suit and soon there were close to twenty flags waving throughout the crowd and then Enjolras was climbing to the top of Lamarque’s hearse with Marius.

            He looked out, over the sea of people, some of whom began running out into the streets to join the school boys when they realized what was happening. As he stood on top of the hearse, still waving his flag, he felt his heart surge with pride for his countrymen as he saw them rising to fight for their freedom. Most of his friends were now crowded around the carriage that was carrying the hearse, urging those around them to join in the fight. Briefly, Enjolras spotted Eponine hanging onto the carriage, being blocked from the crowd by Grantaire. Thankful that his friend was looking out for her, Enjolras turned his attention down the street toward where the National Guard had accumulated and was advancing toward the school boys.

            Enjolras drew his pistol as they came near and shouted, “Vive la France!” a cry which his friends returned and they waited for the army to make the first move. The National Guard pressed forward toward where the funeral procession had stopped. The air was tense and silent as the hordes of people waited to see what would happen next.

            Suddenly a shot rang out through the thick air and the tension broke as screams were heard coming from the base of the hearse carriage. Enjolras looked down in panic trying to see which of his friends had been shot. Then he saw Combeferre shaking a fist toward the National Guardsmen and shouting angrily, “She was an innocent woman!”

            Enjolras managed to make out a figure in a dress covered in blood. The sight of the blood churned his stomach, but guiltily, he felt a wash of relief that it had not been one of his friends—or Eponine. _She was still an innocent life_ , he reminded himself as his anger toward the National Guard replaced his initial fear and the people around the carriage started shouts of “Murders!” at the guardsmen.

As the National Guard proceeded down the street, Enjolras jumped off of Lamarque’s hearse and waved his arm toward his friends shouting, “To the barricades!” and the group raced off toward the street where the café they normally met in was located. Enjolras grabbed Eponine’s hand, and she grabbed Grantaire’s and the three made off toward where they had planned to erect a barricade. As they got to the street in front of the café, Courfeyrac was calling up to the people who lived above the shops in that street, asking them to throw down furniture to help construct the barricade. Suddenly a wave consisting of chairs, tables, bed frames, and other wooden objects, was hurtling toward the ground. Enjolras pulled Eponine and Grantaire into the café, where they all grabbed chairs and ran with them out to the street and hoisted them onto the barricade, before returning for more.

It only took a couple of minutes for the supply of furniture to be exhausted and then all the men stood looking at Enjolras for instructions. He swallowed and ordered some of the men to take up guns and take the watch and the rest he told to be prepared to fight at any moment. It would not be long before the National Guard advanced on their barricade.   Trying to not show his fear, Enjolras kept his face stoic and glanced around the barricade, eyes searching for the familiar head of dark hair and dark eyes. He spotted Eponine off to the corner of their fortress, conversing angrily with Marius.

Before he intervened in their discussion he wanted to see if anyone could discover any information about the National Guard’s movements. He called out to his friends asking, “I will need someone to find out anything they can about what the National Guard intends to do. Does anyone volunteer to try and discern this information?”

An older man whom Enjolras had never seen before stepped forward and offered to be their spy. As he did so, Enjolras heard an indignant cry come from Eponine and he was momentarily distracted by what Marius could be saying to make Eponine so angry, so he just waved at the unknown man in agreement and did not even watch him leave the barricade before he turned to go help Eponine.

Striding toward them he began to pick up snippets of the conversation. Eponine was telling Marius, “No I don’t want to run your errands anymore,” and Marius was pleading with her, “Eponine just this once. I need Cosette to get this. I need her to know once more how I feel, in case something happens. Please Eponine.” Enjolras saw Eponine’s expression change from one of anger, to one containing all the sadness and stress he himself was also feeling, laced with a touch of pity—he knew she was about to give in and he did not want her traipsing around Paris, he wanted her right where he could keep an eye on her.

“What is going on?” Enjolras demanded of the pair as he finally reached them. Marius was holding out a piece of paper to Eponine, that she was reluctantly taking.

Eponine turned and faced Enjolras with a resolved expression on her face, “I have to deliver a note to Cosette,” she said with finality.

Enjolras shot a glare at Marius, but he really did not want to start an argument with his friend right now, no matter how ridiculous he had been acting lately, “No you don’t Eponine, you have to stay right here. It’s not safe to be wandering the streets.”

Now Eponine had the same determined look on her face that she had worn this morning when she told Enjolras that she was coming with him—Enjolras knew he would never be able to contain her, when she looked like that and he sighed in frustration and fear as she told him in no uncertain terms that she was most definitely going to be delivering the note.

“Eponine,” he pleaded, “I don’t want you to get hurt,” he took her hand and turned to Marius, “Do you really care so little about her that you are willing to put her life in danger?” he demanded angrily.

Marius, at least had the grace to look guilty as he stuttered, “I don’t mean to be endangering her, but Cosette can’t be here, and I did not get to tell her goodbye. Eponine is the only one who knows where she lives. None of the gamins even know or I’d have one of them do it. Please Enjolras. I’m sorry for the way I’ve been acting the past few days, but I need Cosette to get this note.”

Seeing the desperation on Marius’ face and the resolve on Eponine’s, Enjolras knew he could not stop her. And truthfully now was not the time to be getting into a fight with either of them, not when they were probably living on borrowed time. “Fine,” he muttered releasing Eponine, “But I’m not happy about this,” he told Marius. To Eponine he said, “Go straight there and come right back, please. I need to know you are safe.” She nodded and squeezed his hand in reassurance before she slipped away from barricade, took a side alley and disappeared into the dark of the Parisian streets. Enjolras watched her go forlornly. Shaking his head he turned and noticed his friend watching him with interest.

“What has she done to you Enjolras?” Marius asked his voice wondering.

“I don’t know what you mean mon ami,” he told him, rolling his eyes at his friend’s smirk, “Now come on there is work we have to do.” Marius followed Enjolras over to the blockade and they began sorting through the guns and ammunition that they had, as Enjolras tried desperately to keep his mind on his work and not on the young girl running through the treacherous streets of Paris alone.

The day trudged on and the National Guard had still not attacked their barricade yet. The men were growing restless. They had spent months and months talking about revolting and now they just wanted to see some fighting. They wanted to back up their words with action. Enjolras felt the same. He was also growing concerned about why the guard had not attacked. Surely they would not be severely threatened by several dozen school boys sheltering behind a pile of rickety furniture. Even though he knew there were several similar barricades surrounding Paris and the army would have to divide their attention amongst all of the groups of rebels, he had thought they would attack more swiftly. They had tried to fortify the barricade as best as they could and they had organized all of their supplies to be ready when the attack came—now there was nothing to do but wait for the army to attack and wait for Eponine to return.

Enjolras watched as the sun began making its way toward the ground. The day was almost done—surely Eponine should have been back by now. He knew that she could not have taken a straight path to Cosette’s house and back because of the upheaval in the city, but it still should not have taken her as long as it had seemed that she had been gone. He was beginning to grow worried and was beginning to imagine all the horrible things that could have befallen her. _What if her father found her?_ He suddenly thought with horror. _What if she doesn’t come back and I never see her again before I die_ , for there was no doubt in his mind that he at least, would die upon this barricade. He had led his friends here. He had planned the whole insurrection. His only hope was that as many of his friends as possible could be spared, but he knew that was unlikely. The only way they would be successful was if the people suddenly had a change of heart and decided to back them. From talking to the Parisian poor over the past days he knew that was unlikely. Many welcomed the boys’ charity for the sake of their children, but they did not understand how they could better their own lives by fighting for freedom and they had told him as much. They just wanted to avoid conflict and thought he was crazy for openly welcoming the fighting. He had sighed in frustration at the fear of the people then, but maybe they were right, he considered as he looked around at his friends—he hated the thought of any of them dying. But then he remembered what they were fighting for—freedom and equality for all—and he knew that if they had to die for anything, it should be this. It was a worthy goal. It was even a worthy enough goal that he was willing to leave Eponine behind for it. His heart broke at the knowledge that he would have to die and lose whatever their budding relationship was, because he was thoroughly enjoying it. He just hoped that she would survive and would be able to move on.

Right now though, he just hoped that she was currently safe and out of harm’s way. Enjolras caught Marius’ eye and saw he also was beginning to look worried. Walking over to him, Enjolras quietly asked him, “Shouldn’t she have been back by now?”

Marius nodded tersely, “Cosette’s house is not terribly far from here and she’s been gone hours. I hope she’s…” he let his voice trial off without expressing the worry they were both feeling.

Enjolras nodded in agreement and inquired, “What should we do if,” he also could not voice his concerns about Eponine and gestured randomly.

Marius looked lost and could just shake his head, terror in his eyes. Enjolras felt his expression turn grim and he just nodded again.

As they stood to the side of the barricade in silent fear, the unknown man who earlier in the day had gone to try and discover the movements of the National Guard, came stealing back into the barricade. Enjolras strode over to him to see what he had to say.

“Be warned! They have many more men then we do,” the man breathlessly informed Enjolras and the others who had assembled around him.

“That’s not a problem, we can deal with that issue,” Enjolras told him firmly, “Go on, did you learn anything about when they plan to attack?”

The man nodded, “They are hoping to starve us out of the barricade and thus avoid actually attacking.”

There were cries of outrage at the cowardice of the guardsman, before one of the gamins who had been hanging around the barricade to help anyway he could, spoke up shouting, “Don’t believe a word he says! I know this man! His name’s Inspector Javert!”

Now the cries of outrage were directed at the double agent and Enjolras’ friends were grabbing the man and apprehending him as he tried to run away. Grantaire, who was watching the scene unfold, semi-uninterested, from the doorway of the café, raised his bottle of liquor to the gamin and said, “Bravo little Gavroche. You’re the top of the class!” causing the gamin to beam proudly.

Courfeyrac and Combeferre were holding the man, Javert, and were looking at Enjolras as Combeferre inquired, “What do we do with him, Enjolras?”

Enjolras made a face as he thought through their options. Finally, he said, “Tie him up and take him to the café. We’ll let the people decide what to do with him once all this is done.” His friends nodded and led the man inside the café.

Once the man was tied up, Courfeyrac and Combeferre climbed up on the barricade to keep watch. Everyone was suddenly much more wary and on guard than they had been before the discovery of the spy. Enjolras cursed himself for being distracted and letting a spy infiltrate their ranks. But even still, he found himself distracted by Eponine’s distressing absence. He went to stand by Marius as they both kept watch for the girl’s return.

Soon, there was a tremble through the ground as if a great force was moving toward them. Courfeyrac called out from the top of the barricade, “Troops approaching! They have at least 50 men. I’m sure there’s more behind them. They’re marching toward us, but I can’t tell if they’re getting ready to attack or not.”

At the call, Enjolras sprang to life, and began throwing guns to his friends’ outstretched hands. “Everyone be prepared!” he called to them as Joly, Marius, and he, climbed toward the top of the barricade to join Courfeyrac and Combeferre as they watched the advancing army.

Joly was the first to reach where their friends stood and he first looked toward the army, which was drawing ever near, but then he glanced down and was suddenly calling out, “There’s a boy climbing the barricade!”

Enjolras felt his heart drop as he remembered that Eponine had still been dressed in his clothing when she had departed. Marius glanced back at him and scrambled up to join Joly and look at the alleged boy. He called out, “That’s not a boy that’s Eponine!” he looked back at Enjolras excitedly and then was waving down at Eponine in relief, but Enjolras could not match his excitement, when he saw that Eponine was still between their barricade and the army. He got to the top of the barricade as quickly as he could. He had just looked down at the small figure, which was just out of his reach, when he heard the first shots ring out and a girl’s cry pierce the air. 


	9. Chapter 9

            Eponine had departed the barricade, still angry at Marius for considering her his messenger pigeon, and sad that she had to leave Enjolras in such a dangerous position to do something for Marius. But, she felt bad that Marius would probably die and never see Cosette again so she knew she needed to deliver the letter or she would never forgive herself. She shuddered as she thought that so bluntly, but Enjolras and her both knew, realistically, what was going to happen to the group. Also, she had an old friend whom she wanted to pay a visit.

            Departing from Cosette’s home after her brusque exchange with the girl’s father, who had promised to give Marius’ letter to his daughter, Eponine ran as fast as she could through the alleyways and back roads, until she got to the slums, where she usually called home. Breathlessly, she made her way toward the docks, where she hoped she could find Montparnasse at this time of day. She had an idea that she thought could help the revolutionary school boys, maybe, just maybe, find success. Eponine knew that the people would run—they would hide and avoid the fighting. As a whole, they did not have the fire burning in them that Enjolras did. Nor were they like the dry firewood waiting to be lit that the rest of the Amis were, just waiting for their revolutionary ambitions to be set ablaze by Enjolras.

There was only one way that Eponine could think of that would convince the people to support the uprising—get the Patron Minette involved. Eponine knew that her father’s gang would overall be against the whole ordeal, but the people held such fear of the group that if they thought the gang was involved in the fighting and wanted the people to support it, then they possibly could be convinced to join. She knew even this was a long shot. Deep down, she also knew that Enjolras would not want the criminals involved at all, but she would deal with his displease at that fact later, after they had all survived.

            She only hoped that she could persuade Montparnasse to listen to her for five seconds without trying to rape or kill her.

            Reaching the docks, Eponine gazed around. During the daylight hours, it was not really a populated place. Several prostitutes were hanging around; hoping for a chance daytime customer, but most would be at their homes, sleeping in preparation for their nighttime work. Finding the blonde, reptilian thief was not hard. Montparnasse was standing at the edge of an alley with Babet, half heartedly harassing a young girl. 

            Sucking in a deep breath, Eponine stepped closer to the men and tried as confidently as she could to call, “Montparnasse!”

            Hearing her voice, Montparnasse looked up quickly and seeing Eponine standing in the street, alone, began sneering, “What do you want whore?”

            Eponine shook her head, trying to keep calm, and simply stated, “I want to talk to you,” then she glanced at Babet before adding, “Alone.”

            Montparnasse grumbled, but he pushed the other man away. Babet stumbled, but then made his way down the street, looking behind him every couple feet. Eponine watched him until he was out of sight before turning back to Montparnasse.

            “Well, what do you want?” Montparnasse growled, “Your father is ‘bout ready to murder you, you know.”

            Eponine ignored the jab about her father, stepped closer to him, and softened her voice, “’Parnasse,” she said almost in a whisper, “I need your help.”

            He scoffed and pulled out a knife that he began using to absentmindedly clean out his finger nails. Eponine tried not to gulp at the sight of his knife. “Whatever do you need my help for _dear_ ‘Ponine? You have your little bourgeoisie protector now don’t you?” he mocked. 

            Internally, Eponine grimaced at Montparnasse’s mention of Enjolras as it brought her fear for him and his friends rushing back to her, but she kept her face straight as she told him, “He’s kind of why I’m here. I was hoping you could help me save his and his friends’ lives with this little uprising they are all involved in”

            Montparnasse’s knife stilled as he looked at her curiously and then began to chuckle, “No way. No way am I risking my own hide to help you and your new lover.” He shook his head and made to move away, but Eponine grabbed his arm.

            “Please ‘Parnasse, please. With your help we could really get the people to rise with them and then they might have a chance.” She was hanging on his arm as he tried to walk away, “’Parnasse, I know we’ve grown apart, but for me, please help. If he dies—I don’t know what I’ll do. I’ll probably have to throw myself in the Seine,” she told him dramatically. She did not know what she would actually do if Enjolras died, but realistically she expected to be killed right behind him, because either way she would be at the barricade.

            Montparnasse stopped walking away as she said that and Eponine hoped she might have gotten through to him. “Will you help ‘Parnasse?” she asked with a touch of hope, but he did not respond. Eponine realized he was looking at the ground in horror and she followed his gaze to where his right foot was submerged in a pile of droppings that some dog had left behind.

Eponine began to smile, hugely—she knew how superstitious the Patron Minette was and everyone knew it was a sign of bad luck to have stepped with your right foot into dog droppings. There was a great chance that ‘Parnasse would take his misstep as he was walking away after refusing her request as a sign that rebuffing her was a terrible thing to do.

Montparnasse looked a little white as he turned away and wiped his foot on the grass. Turning back to her he grudgingly inquired, “So what do you want me to do?”

Eponine beamed at him as she took his hand and led him toward where she knew her the rest of her father’s gang would be loitering at this hour. Now that she had Montparnasse on her side, and he was scared of not helping her due to bad luck, she knew between the two of them they could get the rest of the Patron Minette to help.

Ten minutes later, Eponine was awkwardly following Montparnasse into her parents’ flat. She was a little scared of what her father was going to do to her if he was there, but she was mostly convinced that she had Montparnasse on her side. As they stepped inside, she felt a rush of relief when she saw that the only people who were there were Babet and Gueulemer. She did not even address the men as Montparnasse went right up to them and started quietly explaining the situation to them. She heard him whisper “right foot” and the men’s eyes grew wide in fright. Eponine had to try really hard to stop from laughing—these imposing men were always so scared of stupid little omens, even her father was, it was a little ridiculous, but right now it did serve her motives.

The ragtag group made their way out into the street and started going from building to building trying to rouse the people to go join in on the fight. Eponine tried to reason with the people—much like the Amis had—but when that inevitably failed, having the members of the Patron Minette there to look threatening, and in some cases verbalize their threats, worked wonders. After two hours of combing through the poorer districts of Paris, they had gotten scores of men to agree to make their way over to some of the barricades dotting the city, later in the day, if they received word that those who were there now appeared to need the reinforcements.

Eponine felt satisfied with their efforts and arranged for Montparnasse to come to the café later in the afternoon to check and see if reinforcements were needed and then she was on her way back towards Enjolras. As she made her way through the streets, she hoped that she was not too late and that the fighting had not started yet. She was optimistic as the streets seemed void of any people, much less the National Guardsmen. She had not heard any sounds that seemed to tell of war during her afternoon roaming the streets—she hoped she might just make it back to Enjolras in time.

She was nearing the barricade when she heard the roar of the National Guard advancing on the fortress. Turning, Eponine saw hordes of soldiers quickly about to overcome her. She began racing toward the wooden barrier and threw herself at it, climbing as fast as she could. She was half way up when she heard Joly yell, and then Marius. She looked up to see them looking down at her, Joly with his usual worried expression and Marius with an expression of relief. She could almost reach out and take Marius’ outstretched hand when she heard the retort of guns behind her.

Eponine heard Enjolras’ cry of despair before she felt the pain. She looked up at him in question and then realized there was another scream also filling the air. It was, at that moment, that she felt the fire in her leg. Once she realized the gunfire she had heard had made contact, she grasped that the extra scream she heard was ripping from her own throat. She looked up and her eyes met Enjolras’ which were filled with terror. He was frozen as he gaped down at her.

Marius’ hands wrapped around her arms and pulled her over the top of the barricade. Eponine was in a daze and barely felt the men lowering her to the ground and running away, calling for more help. All she could focus on was Enjolras as he knelt beside her and took her hand.

“You’re going to be just fine, just fine Eponine. Joly went to go find a space to fix you up, you’re going to be,” he was saying over and over, but even through her haze of pain she could see how scared he was.

Eponine turned her head as she felt someone pressing a cloth into the wound on the side of her leg. She gasped and Enjolras squeezed her hand harder. A surge in the pain cut through the fog that had seized Eponine and she was suddenly able to focus on what was going on around her. Joly was leaning down next to her examining her wound. His face looked grim, but focused. Combeferre was the one with the cloth, trying to staunch the bleeding. Now that her head was clear, she did a mental overview of herself.

She did not _feel_ like she was dying—she was in pain, yes, but she did not feel like her life was slipping through her fingers, like she had so often witnessed in the eyes of starving children in the street. She felt semi-alert and determined. She focused her attention on Enjolras—focused on remembering why she needed to pull through.

Eponine heard Joly telling the other men that they should move her and then she felt Enjolras’ hands under her head and other hands gingerly supporting the rest of her body. Enjolras looked down at her blankly. He was obviously trying to hide his emotions. They carried her into the café and laid her down on a table. As he lowered her head to the table top, Enjolras leaned down and pressed a desperate kiss to her forehead. He turned away and she saw him exchange a few words with Joly who thought for a moment and then nodded tersely, before Enjolras sent one more anxious look in her direction and then left the room.

When he was gone, the medical student came to Eponine’s side and spoke to her. “Eponine can you hear me?”

She wanted to nod her head, but her ears and head were already pounding, so she just whispered, “Yes.”

“All right, I’m going to have to dig out the bullet. It’s going to hurt—if only we had something to dull the pain,” Joly trailed off as he looked around the café. His eyes landed on something and his face lit up, “Grantaire!” he called and out of the corner of her eye, Eponine saw the drunk rise clumsily, from a corner of the room, blearily clutching his bottle.

He groaned at being startled out of his stupor before croaking, “What?”

“Eponine is injured and I have to operate on her—can you give her some of your drink to help dull the pain?” Joly explained calmly, even while he found a clean cloth to press to the still bleeding wound in Eponine’s leg.

Eponine felt her consciousness begin to wan and she blinked her eyes rapidly as she felt as if her heart had leapt into her throat and the blood simultaneously left her head. Joly and Grantaire’s faces began swimming before her eyes.

Still, she was able to hear Grantaire as he spluttered, “What happened?” before he was standing next to her, tenderly stroking her face as Joly quickly explained.

Next thing she knew, Joly was supporting her head and neck as Grantaire pressed his bottle to her lips and tipped it so the liquid poured down her throat. Confused, she gulped down the burning liquid, which only made the fog in her head intensify, as she heard Joly say, “That should help dampen the pain; if she starts screaming, you can give her more and hopefully it will knock her out for a while. I’m really surprised she’s still conscious anyway, so that little bit might have done it.”

Through the haze, Eponine saw Grantaire nod grimly and take her hand, before she felt something sharp press into her wound and everything went black. 


	10. Chapter 10

            His legs were shaking as Enjolras vacated the café and left Joly to operate on Eponine. He slumped against the wall of the café and took a series of deep breaths in an effort to pull himself together before he had to face his friends again. Courfeyrac’s cry from atop the barricade forced him to move with dismay toward the edge of their enclosure as he recalled the previously advancing army.

            “A man in army uniform is approaching!” Courfeyrac yelled as the men crowded up to the top of the barricade to observe what was happening. Courfeyrac turned toward Enjolras and he could see his friend’s eyebrows raised in question as to what they should do. Enjolras waved his hand in a gesture to show they should let the man inside if that was what he wished.

            As the man slipped past the barricade and inside, ten of the men surrounded him immediately, guns raised and at the ready.

            “What brings you here?” Combeferre asked the man, calmly, from outside the circle of guns.

            “I have come to volunteer my services to your cause,” the man replied and the schoolboys looked at each other uneasily, all recalling the spy Javert’s similar offer of assistance.

            “Why then, do you wear an army uniform?” one of the boys asks him warily.

            “I donned this jacket to be able to be allowed through and past the National Guard.”

            Combeferre, nods in an understanding manner and continues, “You are rather advance in your year’s monsieur—are you sure you want to risk your life helping us?”

             The man dipped his head briefly before assuring him, “That’s why I want to help—I am old and have lived my life—you boys have not. And it appears that you need all the help you can get,” he finished looking around the barricade where only a couple dozen men stood about.

            Bahorel began filling the man in on the fact that their ranks had already been infiltrated once, “The spy calls himself Javert,” Enjolras thought for a moment that the man’s eyes grew wide and his eyebrows rose briefly at the mention of the spy’s name, but it was fleeting, before his expression was blank again, “We will most likely have to execute him for his treachery. The same fate awaits you if you are lying to us.”

            At that moment, Courfeyrac yelled, “They’re getting ready to attack!” from the apex of the barricade and everyone sprang into action.

            Enjolras handed a gun to the volunteer and softly told him, “Take this and use it well,” before adding to Bahorel’s warning, “If you shoot us in the back you await the same fate as the spy.” The man nodded in understanding, took the gun, and scrambled up the barricade rather agilely for someone of his age.

            All the school boys were looking toward the amassed National Guard standing only a couple hundred feet away. Combeferre continued hastily handing out guns and everyone was bracing for the coming onslaught of gun fire. Enjolras grimly accepted a gun and climbed to the top of the barricade to join Courfeyrac.

The sun was setting over the buildings perpendicular to the barricade, Enjolras noted bleakly, day coming to an end, just as men’s lives would come to an end shortly—all he could do was hope it was none of his friends for whom that sun set. He grasped Courfeyrac’s hand and then turned to the other men who were moving up the rickety wooden structure, “Everyone ready?” he solemnly asked.

            Enjolras’ inquiry was greeted by dour nods as the men poked their heads over the top of the fortress and surveyed the guardsmen who were getting ready to shot. He positioned himself next to the red flag that flew proudly sticking out of a pair of interlocking chairs and prepared for battle. Enjolras raised his gun and aimed it toward the throng of their countrymen who were preparing to gun down a couple dozen schoolboys. Fire ran through his veins as he kept the image of Eponine, who had so unjustly been shot, as well as countless others like her who were kept downtrodden by the unfairness of their society and government, in his mind. He steadied his gun and knew that, although killing and deaths were regrettable, they were unavoidable—France could not keep on going the way it had, but nothing was going to change unless people like them took action. Sure of the justice of their mission, Enjolras called out, “Aim, FIRE,” just before the same command was shouted from down the cobblestoned street.

             The world became ablaze with sparks of gun fire and cries of injured men. Enjolras threw all of his attention at the advancing figures coming down the street—he could not let his mind wander to think of who was crying out in agony. Enjolras could barely breathe for the smoke that began to thicken in the air as the fighting continued. He had reloaded his gun several times and realized that his stock of ammunition was running low, when someone pressed a fully loaded gun into his hand. Enjolras seized it and continued firing.

            He felt the impact of a body fall to the barricade beside him and he winced as he let himself go through in his head where all of his friends’ had been positioned when the firing began. In that split second of speculation, a bullet came whizzing past his head, renewing his focus and panic began welling up in his throat.

            The National Guard got too close for Enjolras’ peace of mind. His targets were closer and he could see the men his bullets struck down as he fired more furiously in a whirlwind of adrenaline. The guardsmen were so close now that some reached out and touched the barricade, ready to climb it. Others aimed their guns up at the schoolboys hovering over them, as angels of a lost cause.

            When it seemed that the boys surely only had moments left before the barricade was stormed, Enjolras, out of the corner of his eye, saw the nameless volunteer take out the man leading the troupe of guardsmen. As he fell, all the guardsmen seemed to collectively pause—Enjolras and the rest of his friends used their hesitation as an opportunity to gain the advantage and they had their opponents retreating within minutes, dragging along their dead and wounded as they ran.

            As the smoke cleared a cheer went up around the barricade and someone shouted, “Look how they turn and run away like cowards!” Enjolras allowed himself a brief smile, happy that it looked like the majority of them had survived this skirmish unscathed, but he knew the fighting was far from over.

            The cheering died down and many of the men turned to face Enjolras. He looked into their expectant and excited faces and his heart sank as he informed them, “They will be back, it’s not yet over.” His comment made the men’s expressions turn bleaker. He turned to the volunteer to thank him, “Thank you Monsieur. It is because of you that we came out of that encounter mostly whole.”

            The man pursed his lips, looking like he was about to offer a smile, but the gesture never materialized and never touched his eyes, which were hard and could almost be described as haggard, if the man had not been so clean cut. Enjolras momentarily wondered what this man’s story was, but he did not want to pry and was not given the chance to dwell on the thought as the man replied, “I need no thanks, but I wonder if I might press you for a favor?”

            “Certainly,” Enjolras told him.

            The man looked unsure for a moment, but persisted in his inquiry, “Let me take care of the spy—I do not want to see any of you young men have the stain of execution on your hands.”

            Enjolras was cautious, recalling the man’s fleeting surprise when he had heard the spy’s name, but truthfully, Enjolras was dreading the idea of having to execute the spy. He considered for a moment that this volunteer was the reason most of his friends were still alive—he had proved himself by fighting at their sides against the National Guard. So Enjolras acquiesced and told the man where to find the spy.

            He disappeared and a couple minutes later, Enjolras heard a gunshot go off in the alleys—he had to forcibly keep himself from wincing at the thought of another life gone. But he had more pressing matters to deal with.

            Surveying the enclosed space, Enjolras saw where the wounded were sitting waiting for Joly to attend to them. They were lucky—no one on their side had been killed, only injured. As he thought of Joly, Enjolras became panicked as his thoughts strayed to Eponine. He quickly strode to the door of the café and right into the medical student.

            Reaching out an arm to steady his friend, Enjolras looked at him with an anxious expression and had to clear his throat several times before he could speak, “Is Epon-.., is Ep-.., is she going to be all right?” he finally was able to ask shakily.

            When Joly nodded his head, Enjolras felt relief come crashing down on him so intensely he almost missed what Joly had to say about Eponine’s condition, “She’s lost a lot of blood, but the bullet is out and the wound is stitched up now. Her breathing appears fine, but she is unconscious, partly from the pain and partly from the alcohol I gave her to numb the pain. Hopefully she’ll wake up in an hour or so. And lucky for her, she passed out right as I started to operate, so she did not feel the worse of it,” Joly grimaced as he finished briefing Enjolras, “Now I have to go see to our friends,” he said and gestured toward where Prouvaire and Bossuet sat and lay respectively, clutching cloths to arm and leg wounds to stop the bleeding. Prouvaire appeared to just have been scrapped by a bullet on his arm. Bossuet was not quite so lucky and had a bullet lodged in the side of his arm. Enjolras waited long enough to see Joly attending to Bossuet first, before he ducked into the café.

            He was greeted by the sight of Grantaire sitting by a motionless Eponine, who was sprawled out on the same table as earlier. Her skin was now white from loss of blood—it made a stark contrast to the dirt that still smudge her skin. She looked so breakable. Seeing her so white faced and fragile looking made Enjolras feel nauseous, but he trusted Joly’s diagnosis and did not dwell on how she currently looked. As he moved to her side, Grantaire noticed his approach and vacated his spot by Eponine.

            Enjolras sank down into the chair and took the hand Grantaire had been holding. He stroked the back of her hand lightly with his thumb and tenderly rubbed at smudges of dirt on her face, which did nothing but smear the dirt around. He had to bite his lip and swallow hard to keep his emotions in check. _She’s going to be fine_ , he repeated to himself several times as he took note of the gentle rise and fall of her chest. Enjolras looked down at her bandaged and bloody leg and grimaced. He hoped the wound would not affect her ability to walk—Eponine would _hate_ being incapacitated.

            He turned to where Grantaire was awkwardly perched on the table behind him and thanked him for helping with Eponine. The other man just bobbed his head as if to say “Of course” and reached out to squeeze Enjolras’ shoulder, before he exited the room to give Enjolras a moment alone with Eponine.

            He sighed and leaned up to kiss Eponine’s forehead as he whispered, “I’m sorry I dragged you into this mess. You should never have been shot,” his voice cracked and he had to stop speaking or he knew the tears threatening at the corners of his eyes would spill over. Eponine was all right and safe—for now, but Enjolras wondered how long that would last. He hoped she would wake up before the fighting resumed so that he could see her and hold her in his arms one last time. Enjolras knew he could not spend much time in the café with the injured girl; he knew he was needed outside trying to rally the troops.

            Regretfully, he stood and after running his hand down Eponine’s cheek once more, he walked outside, where he found Grantaire leaning up against the door frame of the café. Seeing him, he almost blushed, hoping his friend had not heard how emotional he got with Eponine—showing such emotion was unusual for him and he did not want it adversely affecting their fight.

            “Grantaire,” he said softly as the drunk turned to look at him, “please stay with Eponine if you don’t mind?”

            Grantaire briskly replied, “Of course mon ami. I will look out for her during your revolution.” He smirked and disappeared inside the café.        

            Relieved that someone would be with Eponine when she woke up, even if it could not be him, Enjolras moved to go join his friends who were all pulling out liquor they had stored around the barricade. Enjolras rolled his eyes at his friends’ love for the intoxicating beverage, but the eye roll did not contain the same irritation as it usually did. He did not want to begrudge his friends one last night of merriment.

            Enjolras realized it was past dusk and he highly doubted the National Guard would attack again before the sun rose, so he allowed himself to relax against the café wall and take a few moments to collect his thoughts and emotions. He had his head bowed until he heard someone banging into something in the alleyway. Looking up, Enjolras spotted the blond haired thief who had tried to accost Eponine several days ago. The main was peering into the enclosure and studying his friends as they sat around drinking. Enjolras did not want such vermin attached to his revolutionary efforts. They fought for the poor, but those who murdered ruthlessly were another matter. “Hey!” he shouted and the man’s head whipped in Enjolras’ direction. Enjolras stepped toward the man to stop him or talk to him, Enjolras was not quite sure what he intended to do, but before he could take two steps, the thief had disappeared into the growing night.

 

 


	11. Chapter 11

            She awoke with a start, her vision clearing as she blinked rapidly, eyes adjusting to the darkness. Enjolras’ terrified face, as she was shot and lay on the ground in pain, was in the forefront of her mind as Eponine tried to look around the café. She pictured him watching her determinedly even as he stole out of the café, while Joly prepared to operate on her leg. She relived the terror she felt as she saw him leave to go back out to the barricade and gun fire and what she felt must be certain death. She was doubtful that the boys’ efforts to rally the people would have been successful, but she hoped that hers would be.

            Recalling the arrangements she had made with Montparnasse and how she was supposed to meet up with him to let him know if the reinforcements were necessary, she jerked into a sitting position and looked out the window to see that it was already deep night. If she did not tell him help was needed, there was no way Montparnasse was going to bring the people who had said they would help. Eponine felt that hope was most certainly lost now. Cursing, she felt a wave of total desolation wash over her at the same time that a dagger of pain shot from her leg and up the side of her body.

            Eponine looked down and suddenly realized that her pants had been sliced open up her injured leg and there was a mass of bandages wrapped completely around her leg through which blotches of blood stains seeped in to the outer layers of the wrappings. She sank back onto the table she was lying on as a wave of drowsiness overtook her and she lost the strength to defy her body’s need to recuperate. She could not fight it, even to try and discover if Enjolras was still unharmed.

            As her consciousness slipped away, she glimpsed a man with dark hair advancing toward her bedside, but she barely registered his presence before everything went dark yet again.

xx

            Eponine was drifting toward wakefulness, unable to open her eyes, but lucid enough to make out the voices of people speaking near her.

            “You should probably go get some rest yourself,” said a voice which Eponine thought sounded like Joly, although in her confused state, she could not be sure.

            “I want to be here when she wakes up,” croaked a voice that she was sure was Marius’, “It’s all my fault she got shot,” his voice broke in unvented sobs, “She was coming back after delivering my letter. Otherwise she would have been safe behind the barricade.”

            The other man she thought to be Joly did not try to squelch Marius’ confessed guilt; he just matter of factly stated Eponine’s medical state, “She’s lost a lot of blood, Marius—at this point I’m pretty sure she will survive, but she could be out for hours still. You should at least go seek some food soon.”

            Marius acquiesced to the sense in that, “I’ll probably remain another ten minutes or so and then I’ll go get something to eat and maybe rest a while,” he added tiredly.

            Eponine in a panic began willing her weary and broken body to fully wake. She was sorely confused—and worried—about why it was Marius sitting at her bedside and not Enjolras. _Where is he and is he alright_ , her mind screamed at her. She had to see and talk to Marius before he left her side. Fighting her heavy eye lids, Eponine managed to drag them open and blearily she stared at the boy, who sat at her side with his head bowed.

            “Marius,” she tried to say, but it came out strangled. The noise served its purpose though, because Marius jerked his head up and happily stared at Eponine.

            “You’re awake!” he all but shouted, causing her to wince at the sudden outburst. He sheepishly lowered his voice, “You’re awake,” he repeated lowering his voice, “I’m so glad. Eponine,” he took her hand and looked at her very seriously, “I am very very sorry. I don’t know if I can even express my guilt at making you deliver that letter to Cosette. It’s my fault you were shot. If you hadn’t been alright, I don’t know…” his sentence was cut short by repressed sob and he threw his hands over his face.

            Eponine was touched that he felt so guilty, but she did not really have the patience to deal with Marius’ apology at the moment. She assured him it was fine, “I _wanted_ to do it Marius. Cosette had the right to get one more letter from you before you start fighting,” she broke off as he looked up at her in relief that she forgave him and Eponine pressed on, “Has there been any fighting? Where’s Enjolras? Is he alright?” she asked in a string of questions.

            When she paused for breath, Marius hastily interjected, “He’s fine Eponine,” at that Eponine’s shoulders relaxed and she let out a gush of air that she had not realized she was holding, “He is outside. There was a brief skirmish, but we all made it through, for now. Let me go get him. It’s almost dawn and we think they will attack again soon,” Marius told her, stress and worry taking over his face as he squeezed her hand and left the café.

            Eponine was so relieved that Enjolras was safe. But for how long would that last. Her injury had screwed up her plans to get them help. Now all of them were doomed. Montparnasse was too self-centered and selfish to ever consider going through with their plans if he did not hear from her.

            Enjolras entered the café then, derailing her train of thought, as he ran over to her gasping, “Eponine! My God, I’m so glad you’re awake!” he bent down over her and pressed his warm lips to her ice cold forehead, then sat down next to her and gripped her hand in both of his, “How are you feeling?”

            She stared at his beautiful face, now streaked with sweat and settled gun powder as well as dried blood, that she hoped was not his own. His hair was wild, curls sticking up out of the top of his head, but also looking wilted and drained. His piercing blue eyes stared at her filled with worry. There were even more lines and shadows circling his eyes than normal, highlighting his exhaustion. Behind the worry, she also saw a gaunt, hardened look—something that made Enjolras look like he had aged ten years in the course of the past day—the ghosts of war flitted in and out of his face. His expression made her wonder at what he had seen in the short time she had been out.

            As she examined his face, Eponine saw his worry increasing and she realized that he was waiting for a response, “Oh! I’m sore and my leg is _throbbing,_ but besides that I think I’m going to be just fine,” she told him trying to smile up at him so he would stop fretting, “How are you?” she asked, concern lacing her tone.

            Enjolras broke her gaze and looked down at her shoulder, softly rubbing his hand against the top of her arm, “I’m fine. We’re expecting the fighting to begin again soon.”

            Eponine nodded solemnly and started trying to sit up, which caused Enjolras to hurriedly reach out and gently press her back onto the table top. “What are you doing?” she blathered angrily, “I need to get out there and help.”

            “You’ll do no such thing,” Enjolras said his expression darkening, “You will stay in here where you will be safe.” When Eponine reflexively gave him a look that told him she was going to try and disobey him, he added, “I’ll bring Grantaire in to keep you company.”

            “You mean to babysit me,” Eponine grumbled and a stray tear streaked down her face, which Enjolras reached up and tentatively brushed it away.

            “What’s wrong Cherie?” He whispered getting up and moving to sit on the table next to her, “I’m sorry—I just don’t want you to get hurt again,” he leaned down and softly kissed her on the lips to which she responded hungrily, managing to lift her heavy arm and knot her fingers in his hair, pulling Enjolras into her. When he broke away the tears started flowing in earnest as Eponine thought about how that could very possibly be the last time she kissed the handsome, death-bent rebel. As tears silently flowed down her face, Enjolras looked at her in dismay and glancing down at her wound and inquired, “Is it your leg? Does it hurt? Should I call Joly?”

            Taking a deep breath to try and stop the tears, Eponine shook her head, “No, no it’s not that, it’s just,” she paused as an on-set of tears hit her again. Not sobs thankfully, just warm drops of despair flowing embarrassingly down her face.

            “It’s just what?” Enjolras prodded, almost blankly, like he already knew what she was going to say.

            Eponine gulped, “I don’t want to lose you,” she finally whispered, “I want to fight—by your side,” she finished and finally managed to squelch her tears as she stared at him seriously, hoping he would relent.

            His eyes became fierce and he leaned down to kiss her again—this time she was able to control her emotions and the kiss was sweet, loving, and full of promise. Breaking away he put his hands on either side of her face and stared into her eyes—blue meeting brown in a look of determination and love. “You won’t lose me. I promise,” he pledged and kissed her on the tip of her nose. She knew he was lying. She knew that no matter how hard he tried or how much he wanted to succeed and survive—to come back to her, she dared to hope that he wanted that—he would never succeed. But in their final hours, she was content to take his empty promises and just give into her feelings for him. She reached up and wrapped her hands around his elbows as they looked forlornly at each other, “Eponine,” Enjolras began shakily, “Eponine, I think I-“ but he did not get to tell her what he thought because just then, Courfeyrac burst into the café shouting for Enjolras.

            “Enjolras! Reinforcements are here!” he exclaimed, “Look outside! There’s probably a hundred men here to help our cause!”

            Enjolras ripped himself away from Eponine roaring, “What!” as he whipped around to face his friend.

            At the same time Eponine’s jaw dropped, “He came through,” she whispered to herself excitedly, but Enjolras must have heard her because he turned around and gave her a strange, inquisitive look, before turning and striding to the door.

            “There are so many people,” he whispered in awe as he looked outside, “The people have risen. All is not lost.” He gripped his friend’s shoulder and they exchanged bright smiles before he ran back to Eponine’s bedside. “I must go love, but there is great hope now. I _will_ return to you,” he said before kissing her one last time before practically sprinting out of the café to see to his new recruits. Eponine did not miss how he had called her love.

            She stared after him in amazement. _Does he actually love me?_ She wondered. _No,_ she decided, _it was probably just a slip in his excitement; we have not known each other long enough for that_. Enjolras had never shown any interest in women before—he could not possibly love her now.            

            Pushing those thoughts aside, as they would only dampen this moment of optimism. Apparently, Montparnasse must have come through with their deal, even though she had not been able to send him a message. With an extra hundred men, they had a much better chance; Enjolras’ entire change in demeanor signaled that. She wondered briefly if Montparnasse himself was here. She hoped if he was that he would behave and stay away from Enjolras. Eponine knew that she would have a lot explaining to do if Enjolras found out that she had willingly contacted her former friend. From outside, she heard the sound of Enjolras’ voice speaking over the hum of people gathering in the barricade. She could not make out exactly what he was saying, but Eponine recognized the spirited, ferocious tone he was using and her heart soared as she thought of the flame that Enjolras was rekindling in their uprising.

            “So I’m to be waiting out the storm here with you I hear?” Grantaire half yelled as he came straggling into the café, bottle still clutched in his hand.

            Eponine chuckled, “Guess so you inebriated _âne_ , hand that bottle over,” she demanded as he lounged on the table next to her. Without looking at her he reached his hand out and she managed to sit up, grab the bottle, and take a swig. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she replaced the bottle in Grantaire’s hand which was still reaching out toward her not having moved when she had taken his drink. His fingers clenched around the neck of the bottle and he pulled it up to take another drinking before they repeated the cycle. After three or four sips of the vile substance, Eponine asked Grantaire, “So do you think we have a chance now?”

            Grantaire sat up and although mostly drunk, his face seemed remarkably clear and serious as looked at her and stated, “I sure hope so.”

            Eponine grimly nodded her head and they sat in the café steadily becoming more and more intoxicated, washing away their fears, as the first shots of the second round of battle raged on outside.

            The booming voice of a member of the National Guard, shouting at their side to give up or give up their lives, was heard, but by the time that occurred Grantaire and Eponine were too far gone to really register the dire warning being given. Grantaire had fallen sideways and was leaning over his bottle, effectually cutting Eponine off from the alcohol.

She was able to detect Enjolras’ voice rising from the noise as he shouted that they would never give up and his friends’ voices echoed in agreement. She tensed as stray gun shots turned into a cacophony of war. She heard screams of men being shot and the roar of orders being given, voices straining to be heard over the ever increasing sound level.

            Eponine jostled Grantaire trying to rouse him, “It’s begun, Grantaire, wake up,” but the man just grumbled and pushed her away. Through her drunken haze, Eponine sat on the table with a sleeping Grantaire, listening and praying that everything would turn out for the best. 

 


	12. Chapter 12

            “Citizens!” Enjolras called as he strode out into the enclosure. In front of him stood hordes of the Parisian poor, and they did not exactly look thrilled to be there—this made him pause. Enjolras had been expecting a populace fit to burst free from the chains of oppression, hungry to overcome their bonds. Instead, these people just looked plain hungry. And tired.

Enjolras spotted the blond thief in their midst again, standing toward the back of the crowded with a hat on, apparently trying very hard to not draw attention to himself. He noticed the men surrounding the thief had given him a wide berth and several were looking back at him warily. Enjolras also noted that the man held a gun and looked ready to fight—he had one of the Amis’ rosettes pinned to his threadbare jacket and he had a determined look on his face—he looked like he wanted to be there more so than most of the other volunteers.

            As Enjolras studied the man, he recalled Eponine’s whispered proclamation when Courfeyrac had informed him of the reinforcements. Briefly, he wondered if Eponine had meddled and he made a mental note to speak with her about it later.

            For now though, he had a group of people who desperately needed to be motivated to fight, because just then they did not look interested in fighting at all. At his cry, the men had slowly turned toward where he was standing. He now noticed that many of them had their own guns, which he was grateful for because they had limited firearms—certainly not enough to supply all these people.

            “Thank you for coming to support the cause of freedom!” he continued, stepping up onto a upturned box that Courfeyrac had just positioned near the café, “we are fighting for all of France’s oppressed—fighting for equality and new opportunities for all!” He went on with his speech for a while longer after realizing that for once, he had the people’s full and undivided attention. He talked for a long time, all repeats of what he had said before when he only had his friends to hear him, about the poor and how the aristocracy was oppressing them and how there should be enough food to eat and jobs for all. After a long while, several men began to nod in agreement and eventually they began responding to his statements with whoops and cheers.

            By the time the sun was fully rising, Enjolras began to feel that he had gotten these men to really listen to him and to take an interest in their own destinies’. When he finished with a cry of, “Are you prepared to fight for your freedom fellow citizens?” it was met with a load roar of approval.

            Smiling as he stepped down from his soapbox, Enjolras indicated to his friends to begin distributing guns and ammunition to those who did not have them and he went to gather his own weapon.

            While he was bending over to pick up his gun, the National Guard began shouting from down the street. He heard the dire warnings and saw all the men behind the barricade become still and their fear came to their eyes as the guardsman was shouting, “The people of Paris have not stirred! You have no chance! You will all die if you stay there! Why throw away your lives?”

            Enjolras had to hold back an inappropriate chuckle at the first statement as he gazes around at the mass of people behind the barricade, because the guard apparently had not realized that at least some of the people of Paris, the ones that their group had forever been trying to rally, _had_ stirred and come to join their cause. Enjolras knew that it was not through his efforts that the people were here though, but at this moment he found that he did not care. They had a much better chance of making it out alive, and more importantly successfully, with all these people behind them.

But now all their new volunteers were turning to look at him, fearful of the National Guards’ threats and he knew that he had to put their fears to rest, “Never fear citizens! We will not relent! You are the people and you are here, but they do not know, so that will be their downfall! We will not give up until all the earth is free!”

His promise was followed by another loud cheer as the people began swarming toward the barricade. Enjolras pushed up toward the front of the barricade where he met with some of his friends. Combeferre laid a hand on Enjolras’ shoulder and asked, “Ready?” as he looked at Enjolras and then the other men standing with them. Enjolras, Courfeyrac, Marius, and Feuilly all nodded and gripped their weapons tighter before climbing the last few feet to the top of the pile of furniture. Bahorel was pushing through the crowd to try and reach his little group of friends. Prouvaire and Bossuet were still under Joly’s supervision toward the back of the barricade and were being prevented from joining in the fight. Prouvaire was standing there practically prancing, so anxious was he to join in the fighting, and since he had barely been more than scratched he was completely up to it, but Joly was being overcautious. Since they now had more than enough people to fight, Enjolras was not going to allow his friend to go against the medical student’s advice, no matter how over careful Joly was being.

Peering over the top of the barricade they all watched as the National Guard readied to attack their fortress. Before the Guard can strike first, Enjolras turned and waved at his troops, “Get ready to attack!” The first lines of men advanced toward the top of the barricade and steadied their guns, pointing them toward their enemies.

When everyone was in position, Enjolras raised his own gun and calmly uttered the command, “Ready, fire,” and the blaze of smoke, gun fire, and shouts of surprise began again. The National Guard pulled themselves together quickly and retaliated, firing back in quick succession. Enjolras again heard the cries of men being hit, but he briefly realized that the majority of the cries were coming from the other side. The revolutionaries were holding their own. Even so, Enjolras grimaced as through the smoke he saw the National Guard advancing down the street. They were in a much more vulnerable position than the revolutionaries in that they had no structure to hide behind, but even as they were dropping like flies, they were still making headway. He thought that his own ranks now outnumbered the enemies’, so if it came down to a storming of the barricade, hopefully they would still be able to hold on.

“Enjolras!” he heard Combeferre shout from the man’s position next to him a few minutes later, “They’re going to storm the barricade!”

So Combeferre had realized that seemed inevitable as well. “Appears so,” Enjolras shouted back, all the while still shooting down guardsmen. He did manage to spare his friend a glance and realized that the normally calm and collected man was looking terrified. Enjolras grasped his friend’s arm, “We’ll overcome them, we have way more men now,” this assurance appeared to placate his friend slightly, “Just the same, we should probably get ready to defend the inside of the barricade,” turning to find Courfeyrac he called out, “Courfeyrac!” the man flicked his head in Enjolras’ direction indicating that he was listening, “You’re in charge of the top of the barricade, keep the men shooting at the guardsmen even as they’re trying to breech our fortress,” Courfeyrac’s head bobbed slightly as he went on firing, “Be safe,” Enjolras added as Combeferre and he scrambled down the barricade.

Reaching the ground they turned to the masses of people who had not been able to scale the barricade due to lack of space, “They’re going to storm the barricade!” Enjolras informed them, repeating Combeferre’s earlier warning. Murmurs ripped through the crowded as Enjolras continued, “We vastly outnumber them now, we will preserve, but it will come to hand to hand combat mostly likely so beware—it won’t be long now,”  with that Enjolras moved to the middle of the enclosure and took position—ready to face the foes of a French Republic and freedom.

Mere minutes later, Courfeyrac yelled down, “Look out they’re breaking through from the right!” Enjolras looked in that direction and saw two or three National Guardsmen breakthrough the barricade. They were immediately picked off by the volunteers standing in the vicinity. Their bodies fell to the ground with an almost sickening thud, but Enjolras felt nothing but relief as he saw the enemy being killed one by one as they could only come in through the barricade slowly and were vastly outnumbered.

Then there was a horrifying crash and half the pile of furniture, at the right side of the barricade, was suddenly tumbling down into the street. Enjolras gawked as he realized that the men trickling in by twos or threes must have been a decoy as the rest of the brigade had worked at disabling the structure. As the furniture rained to the ground, several of the men who had been standing on that side of the barricade came down with it and they were crushed under wood and the footfalls of the guardsmen that began streaming in at too fast a rate to easily kill off. Enjolras felt as though his ship had just sprung a fatal leak as he heard the screams of the men being crushed beneath his barricade of freedom and more of their enemy emerged into their midst.

The National Guard was still outnumbered but some of them were getting past the revolutionaries now and were taking aim at Enjolras’ men. He pulled his own gun up and began shooting at the men in uniforms just yards away. But before he could kill the first man he had aimed at, that man took out one of the volunteers. Seeing this, Enjolras pulled the trigger on his gun and watched almost unfeelingly as the man fell to the ground. He reminded himself that he could not allow himself to feel remorse for killing those that were trying so hard to do away with him and his friends as well as their ideals.

While preoccupied with his thoughts regarding the death of his enemies, Enjolras did not notice that he had been spotted and deemed, correctly, to be the leader of the revolution. Coming out of his reprieve, Enjolras was suddenly surrounded by three National Guardsmen with their guns raised and pointing at him. He backed up as he raised his gun and tried to think how he could best aim at three men at once to try and improve his chances of getting away—but then he realized that he had no chance. Looking around, he sees all of his friends, preoccupied, but alive and steadfastly picking off the few remaining army men who were coming at them. For the group as a whole, and more importantly for France, the outcome was looking quite well. For Enjolras in that moment it was looking dire.

He was not scared to die, especially not for his country, but his thoughts flew to Eponine and his promises to her, as he took another step and ended up backed against the wall of the very café in which she was hiding. He was completely trapped and knew that he if moved to shot any of the men surrounding him, even if he managed to kill one, the remaining men would have him dead before he could face them. That was not the way he wanted to die, cowardly, turned away from his assassins. So instead of fighting back, he lowered his weapon and raised his chin defiantly at the men. He hoped that after he was dead, his friends would be able to kill these men and continue onto the free France of which they had been dreaming.

As he heard the guns pointing in his face, cock and prepare to shot, Enjolras felt his heart plummet and then fall out of his body, when he heard Eponine yell, “No!” from behind him, at the same time that she threw herself in between himself and the firearms. 


	13. Chapter 13

Eponine heard the crash through her stupor and roused herself enough to venture toward the door and peak out at the fighting that was going on all over the street in front of her. She immediately felt sober and horrified when she saw the soldiers streaming into the barricade and Enjolras just standing there in the middle of the disarray calmly shooting at one of the soldiers. She was content to watch from the café, since it appeared that Enjolras was fine, until she saw three soldiers surround him and he started to move backwards toward where she stood.

            “Grantaire!” She called as she ran over and tried to stir the passed out man, “Grantaire! Enjolras is in trouble, we have to do something!” All Grantaire did though, was groan and bat her hands away, “Useless drunk,” she muttered and ran back to the door. She saw Enjolras practically pinned up against the wall of the café with three guns pointing in his face. Eponine saw him lower his own weapon and saw his chin rise and the look he was giving the soldiers was one of pride and belief that he was on the side of justice. As she heard the click of the guns readying to fire, Eponine knew she could not let him die alone. Without Enjolras she did not know what she would do. It had only been a few days since they had first started growing closer, but she knew that she was very quickly falling in love with him and regardless of whether or not his feelings for her were as strong, she knew that if he died, she would not recover. So she did the only thing she could think of doing in that moment.

            Crying out “No!” in a voice of anguish, Eponine threw herself between Enjolras and the barrels pointing at him. She squeezed her eyes shut, expecting to have been killed or at least wounded almost instantly, but then she felt the hesitation hanging in the air.

Opening her eyes, Eponine felt Enjolras’ arms twist around her and he whispered in her ear, “Eponine, love, please move out of the way.”

Facing the guards, Eponine saw that they were looking at one another questioningly as if asking whether or not they should kill a woman. Hope pricked in her chest as she turned to see Enjolras’ terrified face. He was gently trying to push her away, out of the line of fire. Eponine realized that the terror he felt was not for him, but for her. Even in that dire moment, her heart soared at the thought that he desperately seemed to not want her to die, but she felt the same dread at the thought of him dying, so she would not be so easily moved aside.

“No,” she repeated, “I can’t move. You can’t die,” she declared taking Enjolras’ hand in her own and giving it a squeeze, “At least not alone.”

Enjolras blinked his eyes rapidly and shook his head, “This is not your fight,” he murmured, “Look, they don’t want to shoot you—it’s just me they want—move aside. I can’t have you get hurt.”

Eponine heard one of the guards mumble to the others, “Should we just shot both of them?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Eponine saw one of the guards who had not spoken shrug and the third one answered, “Guess so, if she’s not going to move.”

Enjolras gave Eponine’s arm another tug, “Please, please,” he entreated, “move aside,” but Eponine stood her ground, so Enjolras sighed and moved her to stand next to him, so that instead of blocking him from being shot, they would be equally in the guards’ line of fire. He gripped her hand and gave her an intensely loving look, before they both turned to face their killers. Eponine grasped his hand just as tightly, content in the knowledge that they would die together and thus neither would be abandoned on this earth alone. She did not close her eyes this time, but tried to face her fate with the same courage that Enjolras eluded.

They were so focused on the forthcoming gun shots that Eponine and Enjolras did not see Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and Marius running hurriedly up behind the guardsmen, until all of a sudden, the three men who had been just about to shot the couple, were crumpled on the ground and their three friends were standing behind them, with their guns raised, having just knocked each of the soldiers on the head with the butts of their guns.

“Are you two all right?” Marius gushed running over and pulling both Eponine and Enjolras away from the café wall, “we just looked over and saw you two cornered. We almost panicked,” he added eyes flicking to the other two men as Combeferre and Courfeyrac nodded.

Enjolras brushed off Marius’ hands and let go of Eponine’s as he strode toward Courfeyrac and Combeferre, “Thank you mon amis,” he said looking at each man in turn and giving all three a brisk nod. Then, he turned to survey the enclosure where the fighting appeared to be dying down. There were bodies scattered everywhere and blood carpeted the ground, but most of the bodies that lay motionless were wearing uniforms.

“Most of the National Guardsmen are dead Enjolras,” Courfeyrac volunteered, “Those that still live have surrendered. The fighting was dying down when we noticed you two about to be killed,” walking up and pulling his friend into a tight embrace he confirmed, “We have won this fight.”

Enjolras returned the embrace and when they broke apart he turned back to Eponine. He wrapped his arms around her and buried his head in her hair, apparently not caring if his friends saw. “Thank you,” he whispered, “Although I would have preferred if you had not put yourself in danger, if you had not distracted them, I would not be here right now.”

Eponine just nodded her head against his chest, scared that if she spoke, the tears that she now felt building as her adrenaline levels collapsed, would overcome her. Enjolras kissed her forehead and she looked up at him. He tenderly brushed a tear that escaped away and then leaned down to whisper in her ear again, “I was going to tell you this earlier, but we were interrupted and since we just both almost died, I think this might be a good time,” Eponine felt the confusion displaying itself plainly on her face as she watched Enjolras’ face redden and he appeared tongue tied for a moment before clearing his throat and softly saying, “I love you Eponine.”

Her smile at those words felt like it took over her entire face as Eponine felt her heart swell to bursting. She wrapped her arms around him again, trying to meld his body to hers. Standing up on her tip toes she kissed him on the cheek and told him, “I love you too.”

Enjolras caught her lips with his briefly before he turned back to his friends and asked guardedly, “So what is the damage?” scared to hear which of their friends had not made it. He did not let go of Eponine as he question his friends, for which she was grateful—she was not ready to have him move away from her just yet.

Surveying the street Combeferre answered, “I can only count about ten of our men dead and all of them the volunteers. Plus those who were crushed earlier when the barricade was breeched,” he added wincing. Turning to face Enjolras he informed him, “All of our close friends survived.”

Eponine felt Enjolras’ shoulders briefly slump in relief before he straightened back up and nodded. Turning to Eponine he told her, “I’m going to go see how everyone is doing, will you be all right?”

Even though she did not want to leave him, she knew that the danger was now over and that he was going to be fine. Looking up at him brightly she said, “Yes I will be excellent! I think I’ll go try to wake Grantaire to tell him it’s over.”

Enjolras smiled at her once more before moving away. Eponine had just turned back toward the café and was about to step inside when she heard him call to her urgently. Spinning around she saw Enjolras standing several yards away, not looking at her, but looking toward the side of the street. Following his gaze, she saw a man lying down. He appeared to be wearing fine clothing that had seen much better days and he had a shock of blond hair. Moving closer, she saw blood streaking down his side from two bullet holes in his abdomen. As her eyes moved up from the wounds to his face, Eponine realized it was Montparnasse who lay dying in the corner of the street.

With a gasp, she ran to him, and collapsed on the ground next to him, grabbing his hand. She might have hated Montparnasse more recently, but in the past they had been friends and occasionally lovers—to see him now nearing his last breaths was devastating—especially since it was thanks to him that their efforts had been successful.

Reaching up to brush the sweat drenched hair out of his eyes she whispered, “’Parnasse?” he dragged his eyes opened, looking around wildly, until he was able to focus on her face.

“’Ponine?” he asked quietly, all the strength and cunning gone from his voice.

“Yes, I’m here,” she said stroking his face, “I wanted to thank you for what you did—going through with my plan even without my encouragement.”

A ghost of a smirk flitted across the man’s face and he breathed, “Of course. I just didn’t want you to hate me anymore.”

Eponine shuddered, repressing a sob, “I don’t hate you ’Parnasse, I’ve hated what you had become over the past years, murdering and raping innocent people, but I have never hated you,” she told him, squeezing his hand. His face took on a tightened look and she knew that he was not long for this world, “I still remember you as the boy who was my friend,” she added in a whisper as she leaned up to kiss his forehead. It felt cold as ice and was slick with sweat.

’Parnasse took a deep breath and it rattled in his chest and was interrupted by a fit of coughing that had him spitting blood all over his face as he was unable to sit up. Eponine reached up and tried to wipe away some of it with her sleeve, but she knew it was no use—he only had minutes left.

“Do you forgive me?” Parnasse asked her suddenly, “For all the terrible things I’ve done?”

Now Eponine could not stop the tears that began coursing down her face. “Of course I forgive you,” she told him—she could not let the man die without thinking that his actions over the past two days had meant nothing to her, “Of course,” she added in a whisper.

He let out a shallow breath, “That’s good;” he mumbled, trying to smile, “I think I can die in peace now, knowing that at least you forgive me, ‘Ponine.” Eponine nodded, smiling through her tears as her hand cupped his face. ’Parnasse’s eyes closed and she felt his body shudder and then grow still. His hand became stiff in her grasp and she knew he was gone.

Gently laying his arm down on the ground, Eponine covered her face with her hands and let the sobs she had been repressing for everything—her fear for Enjolras’ safety, her terror at seeing him moments from death, and now seeing ‘Parnasse die after he successfully helped her and her friends—take over. She sat there bawling, rocking back and forth in her grief and exhaustion.

She felt a pair of strong, warm arms enfold her in an embrace and she leaned back so that her back was pressed against Enjolras’ chest. “You going to be all right?” he mumbled, as her sobs still filled the air.

Eponine nodded, trying to quiet down, but the crying continued on strongly for the next few moments, preventing her from fully answering him right away. He just held her and allowed her to release her pent up emotions, as he soothingly rubbed circles on her back. Finally, when she was able to quiet the sobs to snivels, Eponine turned to him, “I know ’Parnasse has been terrible to me over the past years, you don’t even know the half of it, all you saw was him trying to grab me one time,” she hurriedly said as Enjolras looked like he was about to say something in agreement, “But, he died trying to help me—to help us—and he asked for my forgiveness. I couldn’t let him die thinking I didn’t appreciate what he did and forgive him,” Eponine pressed her face into Enjolras’ chest and whimpered a few more times before looking at him again.

Enjolras expression had become confused when Eponine mentioned how Montparnasse had died trying to help them. “What do you mean he died helping us?” he asked gently.

“Oh, um, well, I may have enlisted his help in getting the volunteers to come,” Eponine replied quickly, not meeting Enjolras’ eye—she was not sure if he would be mad that she had associated with the thief or not.

His hand reached out and tilted her chin up so that she was looking at him. Eponine saw a flash of anger in his eyes before it was gone, replaced with some other emotion that she could not read. “I’m not mad, because it all worked out for the best for now. We are all alive and it was a successful revolt,” he told her and Eponine felt her shoulders sag in relief that he was not terribly mad, “But this could cause more problems for us down the road as we try to form a new government. We will discuss it later,” Enjolras added closing the subject, “Now, if you’re going to be all right if you move?” Eponine nodded, “Then, let’s get you back to my flat. I will have Marius or Grantaire walk with you if that is fine?” Another nod, “I have things to see to; we may have won the physical battle here, but there are many more battles—both verbal and potentially physical—ahead as we go about setting up a new republic. Don’t worry,” he interjected as Eponine looked at him in horror at the mention of more battles, “There will probably not be more fighting for a while and if there is I may not have to be involved. Marius!” Enjolras called for his friend and the man came jogging over, “Would you mind walking with Eponine to my flat? I don’t want her wandering alone through the city again,” Marius grimaced at the reference to her earlier injury but agreed.

Eponine took Enjolras’ hand and he leaned down to kiss her quickly and pull her into another hug, “When will you come back?” she inquired—all she wanted was to be with him right now, but she knew she would just be in the way here.

He kissed her on the forehead, “I’ll be home as soon as possible. We all need some rest after the past few days. We just need to make sure we have a strong handle on the situation. I should be home by nightfall, at least for a couple hours. Get some sleep. I love you,” he finished in a whisper.

Eponine smiled up at him, “I love you too!” she told him as she skipped toward Marius, grabbing his arm and pulling him down an alleyway and out of the barricade. She only looked back once, but when she did she saw Enjolras standing with a cluster of men—both his friends and some of the volunteers—around him as he talked and they planned what their next steps would be.

“Are you all good Monsieur Marius?” Eponine inquired once they were safety on a side street and away from the barricade.

“I will be just fine ‘Ponine, once I go see Cosette,” he smiled at her and Eponine was overjoyed to realize that she did not feel the customary pang of jealousy at the mention of Marius’ lover’s name, “I will probably go slip off to see her once I see you home safely.”

“Good, I’m sure she will be glad that you are safe.”

They continued on a few more moments in silence before Marius nudged Eponine’s arm and said in a teasing voice, “So, you and Enjolras?” Eponine hit him lightly on the arm as she felt herself blush, but she nodded happily, smiling hugely. “I’m happy for you ‘Ponine. And Enjolras—you two will be good for each other.”

“Glad to have your approval Marius,” Eponine groaned and he chuckled.

Soon they reached Enjolras’ building. Marius walked her up to his flat and checked around to make sure no looters broke in during the chaos the uprising had thrown the city into. Not finding anything out of order, Marius turned to leave, “Will you be all right alone?” he asked with a touch of concern.

“Yes I’ll be fine, now go see Cosette, I’m sure she would love to know that you are safe,” Eponine replied practically pushing him out the door.

“Fine, I’m going!” he called walking out, “See you soon ‘Ponine,” he added and then he was gone.

Heaving a sigh, Eponine shut the door and leaned against it, exhaustion overcoming her. Stumbling, she made her way to Enjolras’ bed and collapsed. She managed to fall asleep before her head even hit the pillow and somehow was able to sleep all through the day, in spite of the blinding light shining in through the window.

It was dark when Eponine awoke to the bed shifting next to her and another person lying down. “Enjolras,” she croaked out praying it was him because she was not alert enough to fend off an intruder.

“Present,” he laughed and slid an arm around her waist to pull her closer to him, “How are you?” he asked but did not give her a chance to answer before he was kissing her. And he did not stop kissing her. He cupped the back of her head in one hand and pressed the other hand on the small of her back drawing her close to him. Once Eponine woke up enough to figure out what was going on, she returned the kiss, wrapping her arms around his neck, but occasionally running a hand across his back, feeling the contours of his muscles through his thin sleeping shirt.

When she could not breathe, Eponine broke away and gasped for air as she nuzzled her nose into the crook of Enjolras’ neck. She heard him stifle a yawn and looked up at him, realizing Enjolras had not slept in a good two days and was probably exhausted. “I’m so glad you’re safe,” she whispered in his ear and then titled her head to kiss him quickly, “But you desperately need some sleep,” she added as he tried to keep his lips pressed to hers even as she pulled away, “I’ll be here when you wake up.”

With that she snuggled down on the bed, still in his arms and closed her eyes to show him she was serious. Enjolras groaned, but laid down as well, kissing her hair and murmuring in her ear, “I love you,” before his eyes closed and Eponine felt his breathing even out and he was asleep. 


	14. Chapter 14

            Enjolras had never need much sleep. He would stay up late furiously alternating between school work and planning for the upcoming uprising, only falling asleep at his desk in the wee hours of the morning; waking again with the sun rising and shining through his bedroom window. It was what he had become accustomed to and old habits die hard.

            In addition, right now he was _excited—_ genuinely almost giddy. They had _won_ —the first battle at least. All of his fears, all of the panic that had contributed to his incensed work habits over the past weeks, months, and years, had been for naught as all of his friends were alive and well and probably intoxicated after a night of merriment following the last battle. He had excused himself from the festivities and had returned home to Eponine as soon as he could. He was animated with the fact that they had defeated the National Guard, but he knew there were many more fights going on all over France. Last night it had sounded like many of those were just as successful, but they were far from over and the uphill battle of putting together a new government was just beginning. For now though, he was content to lie in his bed, warmed by the small girl who was pressed up against him sleeping soundly.

            He had woken probably an hour earlier and for once had not jumped out of bed the minute his eyes flew, open in search of what had to be done that day. Instead, he had held Eponine in his arms and admired how peaceful she looked in her sleep. She deserved some peace after the stress of the last few days. He slowly combed his fingers through her dirty, tangled hair and smiled when she stirred slightly at his touch. He thought about how much his life had changed in less than a week. When he had originally brought Eponine into his home, he had not intended to be around much longer. He had not allowed himself to start making plans when he found out Eponine returned his affection because he thought it was a hopeless situation.

            Now, here he was alive, and she was alive and they had both confessed that they loved the other. He was sure of his feelings—Enjolras had found himself falling for Eponine over the past few months—it had been a gradual and confusing onset of feelings, but having kissed her and talked to her, and watched terrified as she was injured, he knew he did not want to live without her. As he lay next to her, Enjolras recalled the first time he had met her. It had been a rainy night that he had spent all alone in the café and she had wandered in looking for Marius. He remembered how pitiful she had looked dripping wet in dirty rags, but yet she had refused his attempts at charity—he had found her pride and strength admirable. Enjolras remembered how he had not gotten much work done the rest of the night after she had left as her beautiful glimmering eyes had stayed in his head.

            After that initial meeting, she had started showing up with Marius to more and more of their meetings. He knew she had been there mostly for Marius, but every now and then he would look in her direction and find her watching him with a curious expression on her face like she was actually paying attention. And when Marius met Cosette, he saw how, although her determination and loyalty to Marius did not fade, she had gone around seemingly more heartbroken than ever, as Marius sat in the café prattling on about his angel. It had broken Enjolras’ heart and made him angry at Marius to see Eponine so upset. He had found himself wanting to understand her better—he could not comprehend why she would keep helping Marius, even though it was breaking her heart. Even now, he did not really understand her extreme loyalty to that boy, but he had come to better understand how she was so strong willed, having caught a glimpse of what her life was like—what her former life was like, Enjolras hoped.

When he saw her so heartbroken, Enjolras had found himself wanting to comfort her. He wanted to take her into his arms and never let her go. These thoughts had confused him—he had _never_ looked at a woman before and wanted to speak with her, much less touch her. Something had inexplicitly drawn him to Eponine.

            It was not until he saw her struggling through the rainy streets not even a week earlier that Enjolras finally comprehended what he was feeling. He had been walking home when he saw her almost running through the rain and he knew without asking that she was doing something for Marius. The area was not some place Eponine would have strayed without reason. When he saw her that night, something in his head had clicked and he realized how much he had begun to care for the girl with the fascinating eyes and determined will. He had not actually intended to speak with her however, until he saw her trip and then he had just reflexively reached out and stopped her from falling. Everything else had progressed from there.

            Now, a mere six days later, she was just beginning to wake up in his bed. Her leg was still wrapped tightly in dirty bandages and she grimaced in pain as she stretched before opening her eyes and looking at him blearily. Enjolras kissed her on the forehead and her hazy eyes softened as she smiled up at him. “Good morning,” he whispered.

            “Morning,” Eponine mumbled back, rubbing her eyes and yawning.

            “How do you feel?” he asked nodding toward her leg. Eponine tried sitting up but winced and sank back down onto the bed, “Not good?” he ventured worriedly.

            “How long have I been sleeping?”

            Enjolras thought back over how much time had passed since Eponine had left the barricade, “Probably close to a day. You’re probably just stiff from lying down for so long. Do you want me to help you up?” Eponine nodded so Enjolras wounded his arms around her torso and slowly dragged her into a sitting position, propping her body up against the pillows, “There, how’s that feel?”

            Eponine smiled at him, “Better. I should probably get up and try to walk around soon. My leg was not hurting yesterday, but it sure is now.”

            “Do you want anything for the pain? I probably have some whiskey lying around...” Enjolras trailed off uncertainly.

            Eponine winced again, “No I’ll just deal with it. I have a pounding headache already.” Then she looked at him a little anxiously, “Right before the last battle started I got quite drunk with Grantaire, so it’s probably a result of all that.”

            Enjolras just nodded understandingly, “Let me go get you some tea and food. I’ll be right back,” he said as he slipped out of bed and padded across the flat. Coming back, he placed a plate with a small amount of bread and cheese on Eponine’s lap and handed her a cup of tea, “Here, drink—it will help. We’re running out of food. I’ll have to see if I can find someone selling anything today. With all the fighting a lot of the merchants appear to have left the city, but hopefully they will start trickling back sometime soon.”

            “What happened yesterday?” Eponine asked at the mention of fighting, “Is there still fighting going on?”

            Enjolras sank back onto the bed next to Eponine and took the cup of tea from her so that she could start eating. As she bit into the hunk of bread he told her, “There were many groups, around the city especially, and the country as a whole that we had links too, who were also fighting. It seems that many of the ones in the city were also aided by a sudden influx of the poor appearing early yesterday morning to help fight,” he gave her a look at which Eponine blushed and looked down at the plate. Enjolras still did not feel like discussing her actions so he just continued his update, “Most of those groups were successful and from what we have heard from the regions, many of those groups have had success as well. After defeating the National Guard, the next step was to march toward Versailles and urge the king to abdicate. I know some of the larger rebel groups were planning on advancing toward Versailles last night. I’ll be heading out later today to meet with other rebel leaders and discuss our next steps.”

            “So, it’s happening then? France is going to become a republic?” Eponine asked looking up at him excitedly.

            Gently, Enjolras draped an arm around her shoulders and squeezed her closer to him, “Yes,” he said into her hair as he buried his face there, “It does appear that way.”

            “What role will you take in the new government?” Eponine questioned as he disentangled himself from her and she once again started eating.

            “Whatever role is required of me; I am here to serve my country.” He let her eat in silence for a while and when she was done he took the dishes and placed them out of the way before climbing back into bed next to her and pulling her to him. Eponine sighed happily as she buried her head into his shoulder before he tilted her head so he could kiss her.

            Breaking the kiss, but still holding Eponine securely in his arms, Enjolras rested his head on hers. “I would still like to discuss your part in our victory if you wouldn’t mind,” he informed her and felt her stiffen a little in his arms.

            Eponine cleared her throat before pulling back and looking him in the eye. “What do you want to know?” she asked seemingly defiant but he saw the tremor of nervousness in her hand as she reached up to brush her hair out of her eyes.

            He pulled her back against his chest, “I’m not _mad_ per se; I just want to understand more fully what happened.”

            Eponine sighed, “Fine,” she breathed defeated, shoulders slumping as she continued in a rush, “If you must know, I went down to the docks after I delivered that letter to Cosette and I convinced Montparnasse,” Enjolras felt her shiver as she uttered her deceased friend’s name, “to help me rally the people. We may have used more intimidation than you boys were capable of. I don’t regret it. You’re alive. Your friends are alive. Nothing you say will make me regret it.”

            Enjolras slightly grimaced as he finally began to understand why their revolution had been successful, “I see. So none of those people were there because they believed in our cause and their rights to a better life?”

            Eponine scoffed, “Enjolras don’t you understand? None of them comprehend why or what you were fighting for. They are just trying to make it day to day and now some of them have not survived the fighting, which is part of what they were scared of. Yes, the collective people might be better off down the road, but today they are not. Today, there are mothers and children who have lost their husbands and fathers and sole providers. Today, more women will be forced into destitution and prostitution because their husbands won’t come home. People’s lives are worse today. That’s why they wouldn’t fight.” She pulled away from him angrily and moved across the bed from him. He just stared at her dumbfounded. He had not thought about the immediate consequences of their uprising. Maybe because he had not thought they would even survive, much less be successful.

            “I.. I… never,” he began.

            Eponine laughed darkly, “No, you never did actually think about how this would affect people’s lives did you?”

            Enjolras felt his heart drop both at the look on Eponine’s face and the fact that there were people in the slums hurting today, when he had hoped the people would be rejoicing that they would soon be free. He dropped his head into his hands, tugging at his hair in his distress, as he thought about what could be done, either from a personal level or from the new government that would be forming, to quickly put things right. He hated the thought of people suffering even more because of this uprising.

            The mattress dipped down as Eponine crawled toward him. She placed her hand on the back of his neck and then let it trail down his back, rubbing softly, “I’m sorry,” she whispered as she placed her head in the crook of his neck and began brushing her lips against the skin there, “I know you all are striving toward a better tomorrow—the short-term impacts are just unfortunate is all.” She sighed and her warm breath tickled Enjolras neck, making him squirm and turn so that her head was against his chest and she was in his arms once more.

            “No,” he said, “I’m sorry. I’m going to try to fix this. I don’t know how…”

            “Don’t you see?” she asked softly, “You can’t. These people lost their family.”

            Enjolras scowled, “I know the actual family members cannot be replaced, but I will see what we can do economically.”

            Eponine nodded reluctantly, as if she did not really think they would be able to do much, then she straightened up and looked at him quizzically, “What about your family?” she demanded.

            Enjolras was confused, “What of them?”

            “Won’t they want to hear that you are alive and well?”

            He almost laughed, which just made Eponine look baffled before he lightly replied, “I’ve been estranged from my family for years. They pay for my education because they don’t want me to be living in the streets, but I have not been home since I came to the university and have not had any correspondence with them in over a year now.”

            Eponine frowned, “I’m sorry,” she said for what seem like the hundredth time that morning.

            Enjolras took her face in his hands and looked her in the eye, “Don’t be. It’s not your fault. They did not support me in my ‘rebellious endeavors’ as they called them,” he chuckled, “I don’t need them. I have so many good friends here in Paris. I have you,” he added and then he kissed her.

            Breaking apart, Enjolras began to climb out of bed, “I really should go down to the café and see what is going on, but I will be back soon,” he informed her.

            “I’m coming with you!” Eponine tried to get out of bed too and was doing fine until her injured leg touched the ground upon which she crumbled to the ground with a cry of pain. Enjolras was at her side in flash, helping her up and supporting her weight. “I don’t understand,” Eponine half wailed, “I could walk on it yesterday.”

            “It was probably a combination of adrenaline and alcohol that kept the pain at bay. I guess you’ll have to stay here,” he told her, quietly happy that he would not have to fight her on her desire to accompany him, “I can set you up on the couch if you would prefer that to the bed?”

            She nodded meekly, so he half carried her out to the living area and gently helped her get situated on the couch. He grabbed a blanket from his bedroom to cover her up and then he went about getting ready to leave.

            When he was all ready he went back over to where Eponine sat sulking on the couch, “I’m sure you will be back up on your feet in no time,” he assured her, “Is there anything I can get you before I leave?”

            Eponine looked around his living area and her eyes fell on the amply stocked bookcase in the corner. She looked up at him shyly before asking, “Would I possibly be able to read one of your books?”

            He look at her incredulously, “You can read?” he inquired instantly feeling bad about being genuinely shocked.

            He saw anger flash in Eponine’s eyes as she retorted, “Yes, I can read, thank you very much.”

            “That’s wonderful!” he exclaimed striding over to his bookshelf and looking around for something he thought Eponine would like. He figured she might want something more fanciful than most of his treatises and textbooks, “Would you like a novel to read?” he asked looking over to see Eponine nodding gratefully. He grabbed a rather new novel that he had purchased called _The Hunchback of Notre Dame_ and went back over to hand it to Eponine, who grabbed it greedily.

            “ _Merci_ , I have not had anything at all to read in a long time—the last time I could get my hands on books was when I stole Marius’ law books and read them.” She turned happily to the front page and began devouring the book.

            “ _Au revoir_ Eponine,” Enjolras called over his shoulder as he exited the apartment, “I will be back shortly.”

            She barely spared him a wave as he shut the door. As he made his way into the empty streets he was grinning thinking about the happy girl he would have to come home to later. 


	15. Chapter 15

The streets were practically deserted. Now that the fighting had moved on from Paris to Versailles and the countryside, there was an eerie stillness that hung about the streets that would have been creepy except for the fact that Enjolras was still high on the excitement from the day before. Many of those who could escape, had left the city for the country when the fighting began and those would could not, had locked themselves up in their homes and were only just beginning to crack open windows and doors to try and get a grasp on the situation. The rest of those who remained in the city were those on had participated in the fighting and were now most likely passed out somewhere after having celebrated the night away and Enjolras knew his friends had.

            Enjolras hurriedly made his way through the streets toward where he knew he would find his friends. Making his way into the café, he was not surprised to find most of his friends lounging around; some slumped over tables, some sitting in corners leaning on each other or random women. The only one who was awake and somewhat alert was Combeferre, who looked up from a book and caught Enjolras’ eye as he walked in,

            “Good morning,” Combeferre said.

            Enjolras glanced around at the debacle his friends had made of the place and raised an eyebrow as he looked at Combeferre, “Fun night?”

            Combeferre chuckled, “For them it was—I was too busy making sure everyone survived.”

            Enjolras moved to take a seat next to his friend, “Any more word from the groups that headed to Versailles?”

            Combeferre shook his head, “Not since you left last night,” he paused and then looked slyly at Enjolras, “Did _you_ have a fun night?”

            He willed himself not to blush as he answered calmly, “Yes, caught up on some much needed sleep,” as Enjolras kept his eyes focused on the book Combeferre had opened in front of him. When Combeferre did not respond, Enjolras looked up to find Combeferre looking at him with a gently teasing smile. He looked like he really wanted to press Enjolras on what exactly he had done the night before. Enjolras sighed, “Eponine is _fine_. What you are thinking did not happen last night.” Enjolras was grateful it was Combeferre asking him this and not Courfeyrac—he knew Courfeyrac would not let the matter go so easily, but Combeferre just smiled again and went back to his reading.

            Enjolras also pulled out a book and began reading as he mulled over what the next steps for their country would be. He knew that some sort of government had to be set up immediately—they could not allow France to descend into anarchy. But after that, they would have to go about writing some sort of Constitution, much like the American colonies had, and setting up a system of government. Enjolras had always proclaimed about the benefits of representative government, but there were many other factions that would be involved in the design of the new government, so he knew there were likely to be many heated discussions on the topic, before anything was decided.

            The sound of glass breaking roused Enjolras from his thoughts and he looked up to see a still mostly drunk Grantaire standing in the corner of the room looking down confused at the now broken bottle that lay at his feet.

            “ _Merde_ ,” Enjolras heard him mutter, “What a waste.”

            Enjolras had to hold back a laugh as the drunk mourned the loss of the last of the previous night’s alcohol, but then he heard Combeferre calling Grantaire over to them and Grantaire clumsily walked over and collapsed on the opposite side of the table from Enjolras and Combeferre.

            “Why is the room spinning,” Grantaire moaned as he laid his head down on the tabletop.

            Both Combeferre and Enjolras chuckled at that and Combeferre reached over and just patted Grantaire on the head as he said, “You had quite the night mon ami.”

            Enjolras muttered, “It was more than just the night,” under his breath, recalling how intoxicated the man had been pretty much since their uprising began.

            Grantaire managed to raise his head and glare at Enjolras, “I am sorry mon ami that I was not interested in being slaughtered in your uprising,” he sneered before his head fell back to the tabletop.

            Enjolras felt his temper flare, but struggled to keep it under control—now was not the time to get into a fight with Grantaire, “Well thankfully, none of us were _slaughtered_ ,” he cleared his throat as he remembered how Grantaire had stayed with Eponine, when he could not, “I did want to thank you though, for your part during the battle,” he paused studying Grantaire’s puzzled expression, “You stayed with Eponine and kept her company,” he continued. He gently squeezed the other man’s hand as comprehension flooded his face.

            Grantaire put on a solemn expression and nodded, “Don’t think of it, I was happy to watch over Eponine.” Then he added, “Is she doing better?”

            “When I left this morning she could not walk. The pain of her injury finally caught up to her. So I had to leave her in my flat. When I left she was happily reading,” Enjolras informed him.

            Grantaire looked like he was about to reply, but just then one of the gamins, who hung around the Amis, burst into the café shouting, “Monsieur Enjolras!” repeatedly. His shouts caused many of the sleeping men passed out around the café to begin stirring and moaning at the boisterous intrusion.

            Enjolras hurriedly moved toward the door and dragged the boy outside so as to not disturb his friends any further as the boy did not look like he would be particularly quiet in relaying whatever message he had come to give.

            Once they were outside he looked at the boy expectantly and the boy began babbling, “The king has stepped down! He fled to England!” his eyes gleamed with excitement.

            Enjolras squeezed the boy’s shoulder, “Who told you this?” he asked calmly, while inside he was struggling to control his anticipation about what this meant for France.

            “A man who had gone to Versailles to fight, but was sent back to Paris pretty quickly, because when they got there the king left pretty much instantly so there was not too much of fight and they sent half of the men back,” the boy said in a rush and then he paused to take a big gulp of air before continuing, “He asked me,” the boy beamed with pride at being able to assist one of the revolutionaries, “to go inform leaders of other barricades that they want to have a gathering by the early afternoon to try and set up some temporary government or something.”

            Enjolras nodded in understanding, “Do you know where they plan on having this meeting?” he asked.

            The boy looked thoughtful for a minute as he tried to remember that detail, “I believe monsieur, that he said the Hôtel de Ville and to be there around 2 o’clock!”

            “Merci,” he thanked the boy and then reached in his pocket to pull out a franc to give the boy, but the boy shook his head.

 “No I don’t need payment for this monsieur,” he said solemnly, “I am happy to do what I can to aid your valiant efforts to bring freedom for all Frenchmen.”

Enjolras smiled, overjoyed at the boy’s sentiments of patriotism, “I hope that we can live up to your expectations. And drop the monsieur—it’s just Enjolras.”

The boy nodded and shouted, “Well I best be on my way! Lots of others to tell the good news to!” as he took off down the street.

Enjolras found himself laughing out loud at the boy’s enthusiasm as he went back into the café to wake his friends and tell them the good news as well.

Hours later he found his way to the Hôtel de Ville, the building where the city government usually resided. They had all fled as soon as the students rose on the fifth, in fear of another terror. Now students and others who supported the uprising were gathering to discuss their next steps. Enjolras dearly hoped they would be able to avoid the bloodshed of the first republic. He would do whatever was necessary to secure France the republic it needed, but he did not want unnecessary bloodshed. That was one reason that neither his friends nor he were upset that the king had been allowed to flee to England without any harm. They had no personal vendetta against the man himself, but if he stood in the way of liberty, they would have had to remove him from their path.

Now he entered the Hôtel de Ville, flanked by his friends and ready to fight for what they believed to be the necessary steps the new republic should take. He knew that not everyone was on the same page as the Amis, but they were all interested in better conditions for the majority of the people of France, and he hoped that that common ground would be enough to allow the group to put aside other differences and work for the people.

The main antechamber was filled with all sorts of people. Many of them looked to be young students, like themselves, but there were some who appeared to be from the poorer parts of the city and some who looked like farmers and seemed to have come up from the country. Many people were already in heated discussions with their neighbors and the noise level in the room was deafening.

Enjolras turned to his friends and gestured to Courfeyrac and Combeferre to follow him as he proceeded toward the front of the room, where he saw some other students who he recognized as men who had been leaders of other barricades.

Greeting the other men, the small group stood at the front of the room conversing about how this meeting would proceed, biding their time until they would begin the meeting and debates about the future of their country. 


	16. Chapter 16

            Eponine was in heaven. While she was sorely upset that she had not been able to accompany Enjolras around town today, she could not remember the last time she had been able to spend a day just simply reading. She was pretty sure she had never been able to do that, actually. She was so engrossed in her book that she did not realize how late it was until the sun began to set and she started to lose her source of light.

            Looking around bewildered, Eponine glanced toward the clock and realized that it was already late evening, heading toward night. _Enjolras had said he was only going out for a bit in the morning_ , she thought. She closed her book and placed it on the table in front of the couch as she started to become worried about where he could possibly be.

            Bracing herself on the arm of the couch, Eponine managed to push herself up and swing her legs to the ground. Gently, she balanced herself on her good leg and tested how much pressure her bad leg could handle. When she did not immediately crumple as her foot landed full on the floor, Eponine tried to stand. She managed to put her weight on her good foot and leaning against the couch she was able to limp around the couch so she was closer to the little window in the flat wall.

            Still not close enough to look out; Eponine leaned forward until she could rest against the table. From there she navigated the room by way of the furniture, until she was grasping the window sill as she peered into the street.

            As she had already noticed, it was getting dark and there was not a soul on the street. She did not hear gun shots or fighting of any sort and the city was jarringly quiet. She had never heard Paris so quiet. Eponine felt a shiver go up her spine as she surveyed the lifeless city from the safety of Enjolras’ flat. She wondered what he could be doing, since there did not appear to even be another soul in the whole city.

            Eponine was debating what she should do if he did not return soon, when a mop of blonde curls caught her eye in the fading light and she saw Enjolras coming up to the door of his building and making his way inside. Eponine sighed in relief, but did not move from the window, as she was not sure she could quickly make it back to the couch, and she did not want Enjolras to walk in on her maneuvering around the flat in the same way she had been able to get to the window. She felt embarrassed about the fact that she was so helpless, and although she knew Enjolras would not care, it still hurt her pride.

            Thus, she was still standing by the window when she heard the latch slide and the door swung open to reveal Enjolras standing in the doorway.

            “Eponine!” he cried, excitedly and then he stopped and frowned, “What are you doing over there?” he asked as he quickly moved to help her sit back down.

            “I was worried,” she admitted as she leaned against him and limped back toward the couch. He helped her get adjusted, sitting upright on the couch, “I was debating what I should do if you didn’t come back—you said you would only be gone a few hours,” she tried to keep the reproach out of her voice, but she only marginally succeeded.

            Enjolras did not appear to notice as he sat down next to her and excitedly told her, “I’m sorry, but we’ve _won_ ,” he said amazement clear in his voice.

            Eponine was confused, “Yes, I thought you knew that. That’s why you’re here, still alive,” she muttered.

            He shook his head, “I knew we won our immediate battle, but remember I told you this morning how others had gone to finish the fight at Versailles?” Eponine nodded, “Well the king has fled the country—we are in charge of the government.” Enjolras sounded so excited that Eponine could not help but smile at him. She reached over to grab his hand as he continued, “That’s why I am so late—we had a gathering to attempt to set up a provisional government,” in saying that he grimaced and fell silent. Eponine could tell he had turned into his thoughts.

            She gently stroked his arm and he looked up almost startled, “What happened at the meeting?” she asked quietly.

            Enjolras just shook his head, “It was a lot of fighting. There’s so many different factions that were involved in the fighting and we all want a better France, but we all have different ideas of what that better France should entail. Needless to say, we did not get much done.”

            “So do we not have a government right now?” Eponine asked, finding herself curious about how the politics of this new country was going to work.

            “No, we were able to decide on something,” Enjolras said laughing grimly, “We finally decided that we would create a convention of 27 of the rebel leaders to help ease the country back into a republic. That is pretty much the _only_ thing we were able to decide on,” Enjolras sighed.

            “Did you at least decide on the members of the convention?” Eponine inquired, wondering to herself how effective this new government was going to be if they could not even decide on the next steps that France desperately needed take.

            Enjolras nodded, “We tried to pick leaders from all the different regions, but there weren’t leaders from all of the rural regions so we have many representatives from Paris,” he paused and judged her reaction as he admitted, “I’m one of the representatives from Paris.”

            She had figured he would be. Eponine just shrugged, “Good for you. They need you; you have so many good ideas.”

            Enjolras looked like he was too absorbed in his thoughts to really hear what she was saying, but he did nod slowly, “I just hope I can get some of our ideas on the table,” he said quietly, “Some of the other groups are much more radical. It’s going to be an uphill struggle.”

            Eponine wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest, “If anyone can do it, it’s you. I’ve seen the way you’ve inspired your friends, you’ll be able to do it with others too,” she assured him.

            She looked up to see Enjolras smiling at her again and rubbing his thumb lightly across her cheek before he leaned down to kiss her, “Thank you for believing in me,” he said simply. They sat there for a few moments, quietly entwined in each others’ arms before Enjolras spoke up again, “Les Amis are meeting up tomorrow morning to try and sort out where we as a group stand on the next steps. I am the only one of us in the convention so I want to make sure we have, a platform, basically.”

Eponine nodded, “Sounds like a good way to go forward,” she replied. She thought he was only telling her just to talk, but he continued.

“I would very much like it if you came and contributed any ideas you have,” he added quietly.

Eponine pulled away and looked up at him in wonder, “Really?” she spluttered, “Why would you care what I think?” Eponine could really not understand why he would want her there, contributing. She had no education, she was really just lucky that she could even read.

Enjolras looked at her questioningly, “Don’t you want to be there?” Eponine nodded eagerly, she was sorely interested in all their planning and politics, but that still did not change the fact that she really knew nothing about it, “Well then, it’s settled. If you can walk well enough you’re coming with me tomorrow morning,” Enjolras stated matter-of-factly.

“But, I don’t know anything about government or politics or anything,” Eponine muttered.

“I know,” he said, “But you know about real life and the people, much more than we do. You proved that by getting them to fight—no matter how _questionable_ your methods may have been,” he gave her a semi-accusing look and she blushed, but then gave him a defiant stare.

“We talked about this,” she deadpanned, “Those people coming saved you and all of your friends’ lives.”

“I know I know that’s why I’m really not mad, but it does show you’re resourcefulness,” he hurriedly assured her, “So please, come and voice your opinion whenever you feel like you have some knowledge that we may not or a different perspective—things like that are always helpful when one is trying to organize ideas.”

“All right,” Eponine relented for she truly did want to be a part of this new government forming, “I’ll come and try to offer insight, if that’s what you want,” she added uncertainly.

“I do,” Enjolras promised her and he nuzzled his head into the crook her neck, “Now you should probably get some rest. You need to heal so you can walk to the café tomorrow,” and with that he picked her up and carried her to bed.

The next morning Enjolras woke Eponine when the sun was just rising and helped her get out of bed. She gingerly placed her weight on her bad foot and only slightly grimaced at the pain. Encouraged, she tried to take a step forward and was able to slowly make her way to the door with minimal discomfort. Eponine turned back to where Enjolras stood by the bed grinning, “I think I can make it today!” she exclaimed.

“Wonderful!” he said enthusiastically, and swept her up in his arms, holding her tightly to him, “Now we should get ready, we were planning on meeting early this morning as the convention is meeting for the first time this afternoon.”

When they got to the café later that morning, it was more crowded than usual. Eponine recognized the men who usually made up the group of Les Amis, but there were many she did not recognize. “Some of the men who joined us in the fight wanted to join in the discussions. Our group has grown immensely,” Enjolras whispered to her as they went inside and he saw her looking around in awe at the group that had tripled in size. Enjolras was looking around the room with pride and excitement—Eponine felt out of place as she was the only girl in the room. She felt that it was doubtful that she would say _anything_ now. Speaking in front of the group of Enjolras’ friends was one thing, but many of these other men had lived the same life as her and would no doubt be ready to bring that up. “Do you want to sit up near the front with Courfeyrac, Combeferre, and I?” Enjolras asked.

Eponine looked up to where he was pointing and then she saw Grantaire off to the side waving and smiling at her, “No,” she told him, “I’ll go sit with Grantaire.”

Enjolras nodded and made his way up to where Courfeyrac and Combeferre were talking to some of the men that Eponine recognized from the slums where she lived. She plopped down in a chair next to Grantaire and turned to him, “So you managed to survive the scuffle the other day?” She asked teasingly.

He just laughed, “You know I had no part of that fighting. I was right there getting drunk with you—wanna make today a repeat?” he asked offering her his bottle.

Eponine shook her head, “I promised Enjolras I would pay attention and speak up if I had anything to say,” she told him.

Grantaire laughed again, “So how is it being the lady friend of our fearless Enjolras. Is he converting you to our cause already?”

Eponine blush and then stammered, “I’m not, I’m not his lady friend.”

Grantaire gave her a knowing look and just said, “Oh really? Because I’ve never seen Enjolras even look at a woman before, much less take her into his home and show so much concern for her during the midst of the uprising he has been planning for _years._ ”

Eponine was about to retort that he had not taken her into his home, when she realized that was a lie. She had been staying in his flat for a week now. At this point, if she went home she knew without question that her father would murder her. Eponine just sat there for a moment with her mouth open, unsure of what to say or of what she was going to do. Surely Enjolras would want her to leave when she was all healed. Even if he did love her, from what she could tell, Enjolras was the type of man who liked to have his own space and she was currently invading it. She would have to figure out where she could go. For now, she pushed those worries to the back of her mind and just ignored Grantaire’s smug smirk as the meeting was starting, so she put all her attention on Enjolras.

Enjolras began speaking about the need for the country to draw up a constitution as well as form a legislature and other men began speaking about different ideas they had concerning those fundamentals of nation building. Eponine paid attention to that only cursorily as she really did not understand how a government functioned and many of the words they were using made no sense to her. She would have to get Enjolras to lend her some books to help her understand it all later.

But when they started speaking about who would have a say in the government, she perked up and began listening in earnest. Many of the poor men were worried that the same problems that plagued the old regime would take place—namely that only the wealthy would be able to vote. Many stood up requesting that Enjolras take the idea of all men, not just landowners, being able to vote for the legislature. Eponine saw that Enjolras nodded emphatically at that, “We want all people to have a say in what happens in their lives, not just the privileged,” he assured the man who was speaking.

“What about the women,” one man asked and many other men erupted in laughter. Eponine felt her anger rising. She did not understand why it was such a joke, the idea of women voting. She noticed that Enjolras also frowned at the outburst.

“That is a distinct possibility. There is really no reason why women should not have as much of a voice as men in a free society,” Enjolras stated calmly, but he was drowned out by the majority of the crowd laughing.

As he tried to regain control of the situation, Eponine was relieved that at least Enjolras and the rest of the Amis did not appear to find the suggestion amusing. The idea that she could potentially have a voice in her future was exhilarating. She looked up from her thoughts as she heard Enjolras raising his voice over the crowd, “That is a matter that is up for debate with the convention as a whole, but I will keep your opinions and thoughts in mind as we discuss the issue of suffrage,” he yelled over the noise. Eponine felt her hopes of having a voice fall as she heard his conditional statement. She knew he had to try and placate the crowd, but she still had hoped Enjolras would be a bit more forceful about standing up for everyone’s rights.

Eponine spent the rest of the meeting pondering the issue and was so absorbed in her thoughts that she barely heard the discussions surrounding what to do about the poor population and how they should go about helping increase the prevalence of employment, training, and education for all people. There was much conversation, but she was in an anger induced daze right up until the point where Grantaire was pulling on her arm as Enjolras came over and stood next to her chair.

“Ready to go?” he asked reaching out a hand to grab hers.

Eponine let him take her hand and pull her up, but she did not say anything as they left the café. She decided she would wait and talk things over with Enjolras later when they were alone because she had many things she wanted to ask him.

 

 


	17. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Eponine starts a suffrage movement

As they walked hurriedly down the street, Eponine could tell Enjolras was deep in thought, but she was still seething about how easily he had given into the group’s insistence that women should not be able to vote, so she took the first opportunity to question him about how he acquiesced so easily.

            It was when they were about two blocks away from the café that Eponine could not keep silent any longer and she turned to Enjolras and angrily inquired, “Why did you not stand up for the idea that women should be able to vote?”

            He jerked to a stop and stared at her, “Eponine,” he began his voice steely and almost cold in a way he had never addressed her before, “I could not allow that meeting to turn into a shouting match—that would not have been productive.”

            Eponine shrugged, “But it’s not fair; women have just as much of a right to vote as men do. And those men acted like the idea was the biggest joke they’ve ever heard,” she was properly angry and glared at him.

            Enjolras sighed and ran a hand through his hair, “I never said I _agreed_ with them, Eponine,” he said and she could tell he was trying to keep his voice calm.

            “Well you didn’t put up much of a fight. I sat there thinking it over for the rest of the meeting and I can’t think of a good reason why women should not be allowed to vote if all men are going to be allowed to vote—it just doesn’t make sense,” she told him.

            “Eponine,” he breathed, moving forward to put a hand on her shoulder, “I agree with you. There’s no good reason that women should not be able to vote. But I have to be diplomatic at these meetings. I’m going to try and keep that option on the table at the convention meetings, but it’s going to be an uphill battle,” he sighed looking at her forlornly, “I wish I could promise you that you will be able to vote, but I know it’s going to be difficult to get many of the men to listen.”

            Eponine blinked back at him confused, “Why don’t they think women should vote?” she asked, the earlier anger in her tone deflating as she realized that Enjolras was on her side.

            Enjolras took her arm and started walking down the street again, “It’s only for power reasons really. It has to do with men viewing women as the ones who caused Adam’s downfall in the Garden of Eden, do you know that story?”

            Eponine frowned, “Of course, I’m not a complete heathen,” she sneered, “I’ve learned the basics.”

            Enjolras nodded, “Just checking,” he assured her evenly, “Many men believe women should just be in the home and listen to the authority of their fathers and husbands. They think women cannot make the correct, informed decisions, so they do not deserve suffrage,” he frowned, “And many do not want to give women the chance to be able to make any decision because they are worried about women who are powerful.”

            Eponine snorted, “And all men can make good decisions?” she asked derisively as she thought of her father and the other men he associated with. She knew they would never vote in a way that was good for all of the country. From what she had seen, they always made the wrong decisions.

            Enjolras smirked a bit at her outburst, “I completely agree with you. And then I looked at people like you, who have had to fend for themselves since childhood really and I just can’t believe that you don’t deserve the chance to take control of a bit of your future,” he stopped again and looked at her very seriously, “I promise, I will do everything in my power to make sure you have that right,” he told her solemnly as he brushed a lock of hair behind her ear.

            “Thank you,” Eponine said gratefully looking up at him and she was smiling again. Then, she asked him something that had crossed her mind during the meeting, “Is there anything I can do to help with this?” she wondered.

            Enjolras looked like he was about to shake his head no, but then he paused and thought for a moment before replying, “I don’t see why you should not be able to try and organize some people to your cause. If this is something you feel strongly about,” Eponine nodded emphatically, “then you should try and help to convince the others on the convention and the people as a whole that women’s suffrage should be just as much a right as men’s suffrage.”

            She mulled over his words for a while as they continued down the street. She did not know many women—even less who would be interested in fighting for anything. It sounded like a good idea in theory, but she wondered how well she would be able to pull it off. She expressed as much to Enjolras, but he just smiled and told her, “You’ll figure out a way—you helped us win France’s freedom, I’m sure you can figure out a way to organize a women’s rights assembly. I’ll help in any way I can,” he assured her.

            As they neared Enjolras’ flat Eponine was reminded of her initial thoughts during the meeting about the topics of government that had gone over her head, “Enjolras,” she began as he turned toward her, “I was wondering if you might have some books about politics or government that I could borrow. Much of what everyone was discussing at the meeting I did not understand,” she admitted her cheeks turning red in her embarrassment at being so uneducated, “But I’d really like to,” she added meeting his eye to find him beaming at her.

            “Of course Eponine. I’ll find you some books this very minute,” he declared and he dragged her up to his flat.

            As Enjolras rummaged through his bookshelf, muttering to himself as he pulled several books out and placed them in a neat pile on the ground, Eponine lingered by the couch chewing on her lip as she pondered, the _other_ question that she felt she had to ask Enjolras after talking with Grantaire before the meeting. Sighing, she figured she might as well get it over with, “Enjolras,” she asked quietly, looking down at the ground. He stopped searching his books and turned toward her.

            Seeing her nervous expression his face became worried, “Yes Eponine, what’s wrong?”

            She shook her head, “Nothing’s wrong,” she reassured him, “I was just wondering when you would want me to leave. Now that I’m mostly better, I mean and you’re uprising is over. I’m sure you’ll be really busy and need your space—I don’t want to be a bother,” she mumbled out in a rush.

            Enjolras looked at her confused, “What are you talking about? You don’t have to go anywhere,” he told her looking horrified at the idea, “In fact, I’d really prefer you’d stay here,” he informed her as he crossed the room and took her hands, “Why would you think I would want you to leave?”

            “Well, I’m kind of a burden to you aren’t I?” Eponine mumbled, “You’re not used to having anyone else around—I’m sure you want to have full use of your bed again,” she said with a dry laugh.

            Enjolras enfolded her into his arms, “Why would you think that? I told you the other day—I love you,” he froze and pulled back, “You said you love me too, you…still do…right?” he asked cautiously.

            Eponine’s heart fell at the anxious look on Enjolras face at the thought that she might not actually love him. She rushed to comfort him. Eponine wrapped her arms tightly around Enjolras as she whispered, “Of course, yes. How could I not. I just, I kind of thought, that you might have just been caught up in the fear of what was going to happen and probably did not love me. I would understand if that was true—I’m dirty and wear rags and come from a terrible home. I don’t really understand why you would love,” she sighed and pulled away from him.

            “Eponine,” he said firmly and intensely as he stared at her, “I don’t _care_ about any of those things. Dirt can be washed off, you can get new clothes, and where you come from does not define who you are. Over the past months as I got to know you and especially during the last week that we’ve spent so much time together, it’s you, Eponine that I’ve fallen in love with. I’ve fallen in love with your hidden fire, just waiting to burst out. I’ve fallen in love with how you care for your friends and how you want to learn. You are not your family; I can tell you’re meant to rise above your circumstances. I hope you’ll stay here and accept my help. I know you’re proud and don’t want to accept charity, but this isn’t charity—this is me being selfish,” he said with a chuckle, “I want to see you shine, like I know you can. I want you to be here, where I can ensure you are safe. I want to take care of you,” he finished and looked at her hopefully.

            Eponine felt floored. No one had ever shown her so much interest or care before and she did not really know what to say. The only thing she managed to mutter was, “I don’t need anyone to take care of me.”

            Enjolras laughed, but he took her in his arms again, “I know that,” he said softly, “I know you don’t need someone to take care of you, but you don’t always have to be so strong. It’s okay to be let someone else help you now and again. I care about you, so much.”

            Eponine considered this for a while as she stood encircled snuggly in Enjolras’ embrace. She could not remember the last time she had felt safe and well fed for any length of time. And she really had grown to love Enjolras, somehow. Her feelings toward Enjolras were already more deep than her feelings towards Marius had ever been. She considered if it would be so terrible to admit that she did not want to live on the streets anymore, and if that meant putting her trust in someone, she could not think of anyone she would trust more than Enjolras. He was always there for his friends and she had seen the proof of how he had been there for her over the past week. She just felt calm and at peace in his arms. Truthfully the idea of leaving made her feel very sad.

            “If you’re sure,” Eponine began, making up her mind, “I would really like to stay,” she told him, smiling up at him.

            “Thank you,” Enjolras leaned down to press a kiss to her forehead, “Now, if you would like I could help you draw a bath? I probably should have offered days ago,” he said sheepishly.

            Eponine grimaced, “Yes I’ve been mucking up your home for a week now,” she replied her face turning red, “But it would be nice to be clean for once.”

            “That’s not what I meant. You haven’t been mucking up anything,” he laughed, “Come on then.”

            A half an hour later, Eponine was relaxing in the first bath she had had in months. Her skin felt raw from being scrubbed hard and the water was now dark with grime, but she felt so refreshed. She finished washing her hair and stepped out of the bath, drying off. She looked at her still dirty rags lying next to the tub and sighed. Eponine frowned at the feel of the soiled garments on her now clean skin as she slipped them on. Squirming, she tried to get used to the feel of the clothing that before had felt like it was grown on her body. The high she had gotten from once again being clean was somewhat dampened by her lack of clean clothing, but Eponine really was grateful for even the opportunity to bath as she walked out into the main living area to find Enjolras.

            He stood from his place on the couch as she walked toward him. She smiled shyly at him, unable to meeting his forceful stare as he studied her now clean body. He took her hand as his eyes roved her body, “You looked beautiful before, but you look even more beautiful now.” He bent down to kiss her gently.

            “It’s nice to be clean,” she told him, and then a little more hesitant, Eponine asked, “I was wondering, what I am to you? I know you said you love me, but you just seem to be trying to do a lot for me and I was wondering what you think this is exactly?”

            “Well,” Enjolras began appearing to be choosing his words careful, “I know our situation is a little, um, unorthodox, but I was hoping you would allow me to court you?”

            Eponine had to hold back a laugh at that, “While I’m sharing your bed?” she asked.

            Enjolras actually blushed at her statement, “We’re not really, you know, we haven’t,” he stumbled around the right words for how to say they had not actually done anything while in his bed.

            Eponine took pity on him and laughing again assured him, “I know what you mean. I like the sound of that though, of you courting me. I never thought anyone would want to court me,” she said shaking her head forlornly.

            The rest of the next week passed much the same as the first two days after the barricades. Enjolras would go off to meetings for the majority of the day and Eponine was slowly working her way through the books that Enjolras had picked for her to read. He came home the day after they came to an understanding with two new dresses for her that he had picked up somewhere. They were plain and did not fit perfectly, as he had not been able to have them sized, but they were worlds better than her rags and Eponine thanked Enjolras profusely.

            In the evenings, Enjolras and Eponine would both sit at the table, reading as Enjolras frantically made notes regarding all manners of government that he would take to convention meetings the next day. He frequently took breaks, however, to help Eponine with her writing as that was not a skill she had ever learned and he was committed to the idea of teaching her. She had learned her letters as a child and she was progressing now to the point that she was able to copy a word here or there from the books she read to help remember something she thought might be important in her new fight for the women of France’s right to vote. As she read more about France’s history and government, the more she became convinced that there was no legitimate reason why women should not be allowed to vote as well. Eponine had discussed the idea at length with Enjolras by candle light as they sat there reading and taking notes late into the night. He had thoroughly encouraged her and helped her to set up a plan of action.

            The convention had not begun discussing the issues of suffrage, but Eponine knew she had to act fast to have a hope of influencing the decision. 


	18. Chapter 18

Enjolras watched the girl sitting across from him, as she thoughtfully nibbled on her bottom lip, while studying the thick book of French history in front of her. Every now and then she would carefully jot down a word here or there. The letters were too large and a bit shaky, but they were there and she was clearly thinking hard about the path their country was taking.

He was pretty sure he had never been more proud of someone in his life. After that first meeting where the issue of women's suffrage had been brought up as a joke, Eponine had thrown herself headfirst into trying to figure out a way to make the other convention members listen to sense. With Enjolras' advice, she had come up with the idea of forming a woman's group—a group who could rally together before the convention discussed suffrage, and make their thoughts on the subject known. The idea was that hopefully with enough people, the group could influence the convention members to grant them the right to vote.

Enjolras knew, in theory, it was a good idea, especially after the first several meetings of the convention where he had had the opportunity to witness how surprisingly open to discussing new ideas the convention members were in reality. There seemed to be a general consensus among convention members that the previous methods and traditions of government were thoroughly outdated and inefficient and all new possible paths should be examined. Enjolras still worried about what would happen when the issue of suffrage would arise because he had seen the disdain many of the members had for women come about in discussions of other aspects of governing.

Granted, there really was no other way for Eponine to go about swaying the convictions of the other convention members regardless of how open minded they were or not. The problem with the idea of a women's group however, was the fact that Eponine was the daughter of a thief, and she had limited legitimate connections—so they were stuck on how she was going to go about getting a large enough gathering of women together to inspire change. Eponine had expressed that worry initially; fear of failure clear in her eyes, but Enjolras had promised her that he would think on it.

That day, as he sat around the café listening to his friends speak, he had come up with a possible solution, or at least the beginnings of one.

He cleared his throat, causing Eponine to glance up at him and seeing he was watching her, she smiled and put her pen on the table, "What is it?" she asked.

"I think I may have found an answer to your problem, regarding going about forming a woman's group," he told her and her eyes lit up with interest.

"What is that?" she demanded excitedly.

He studied her carefully as he answered, looking for any signs of reluctance, "As you may know, many of my friends have…lady friends, and I was discussing this with them and many of them hinted that their ladies may be interested in joining such a group."

Eponine's shoulders slumped and she frowned, "You really think they would?"

Enjolras chuckled, "They do associate themselves with rebels; they have to have some strain of rebellion in them."

She grinned at that, "That's quite possibly true," she frowned again, but Enjolras could tell it was in thought this time, not in doubt, "How would I go about contacting them—I've never met any of your friends' mistresses"

"Don't worry about that, I'll inform my friends tomorrow that you would like to meet with their…um…mistresses. If you would like you could meet in the café on Saturday," he offered.

Eponine nodded, "That gives me two days to figure out what I'm going to say to them," she said quietly.

He reached over and placed a hand on hers, "You're ready for this. I'll help you put together a speech," he assured her.

"You are quite good at that," she teased him smirking, which made him laugh again. Enjolras wondered what he had done before he had this wonderful, teasing girl to spend time with in the evenings, as they both went back to their readings and planning.

xxx

The next evening they sat side by side at the same table as Enjolras helped Eponine outline her thoughts into something resembling a speech. They had a page of notes that Enjolras had scribbled and Eponine was reading them over. When she reached the end she groaned, "This is impossible, how do you do this every day?"

He chuckled, "You'll get the hang of it; it just takes practice. Now, I usually just organize my ideas and speak freely. I don't write out a specific speech, but that might a bit much to do the first time?" he looked at her questioningly as to what she wished to do.

Thinking, Eponine glanced over the notes again before she looked up at him, "I may just do that. I don't want to just be reading from a page. I've seen how you give speeches and you're using your hands and so passionate. You don't get the same effect if you're reading a pre-prepared speech do you?"

Enjolras was surprised at her insight, "You're right, you don't," he agreed, "Do you want to practice?" he inquired.

She nodded and left his side to stand in front of him. Her cheeks were a little pink as she began talking, glancing now and them at the page in her hand. Her words were a bit stuttered, but her eyes gleamed with enthusiasm and it gave her an all together pleasant effect as she spoke. Enjolras found himself smiling as he watched her. When she finished and looked to him for approval or critiques, he could not help but go over to her and kiss her thoroughly.

The papers Eponine was holding fell to the ground as she reached up to wrap her hands around his neck to hold his lips to hers. He gripped her waist as he deepened the kiss. Enjolras crushed her small body to him, lifting her off her feet slightly. With one arm still securely around her waist, he started running his other hand up and down her arm and curling it around her shoulder. When Eponine's fingers started carding through his hair, Enjolras had to pull away, before they got carried away. Even though they had a bit of an unconventional relationship, he did not want to go farther than they were ready for and he was starting to forget why. As he did so, Eponine whimpered and looked up at him pouting.

"Why did you stop?" she whined as he placed her back on the ground.

"Because I was starting to forget that I have to be a gentleman," he chuckled.

Eponine wrinkled her nose, "I have no virtue, you know," she informed him in a matter-of-fact manner.

That did not really surprise him, but it did not change anything in his mind, "Regardless, you are still a lady and we are not married and I will not soil your honor," he said firmly.

Eponine scoffed, "Really I have no honor, but fine" she said grudgingly as she moved away from him to sit on the sofa, "I already sleep in your bed you know," she added as she sank down on the couch in frustration.

Enjolras blushed slightly and murmured, "That really is just because I don't have an extra bed and then with so much going on over the past couple days; I found I preferred to know that you were safe in my arms at all times throughout the night." Eponine looked up at him seemingly startled at his revelation.

He joined her on the sofa after a minute, snaking an arm around her waist to pull him toward her, "I'm sorry, but I want to do things right, because you deserve that," he told her as he kissed the tip of her nose, "I know you've had a hard life over the past couple years and I really just want to treat you right," he cupped her cheek in his hand so he could make her look him in the eye, "You're not just someone I want to sleep with a couple of times and throw you back out on the street—you're much more important to me."

Eponine pondered this for a moment and then asked, "Well what are your intentions with me then? Besides courting me," she teased lightly, but Enjolras could see her eyes flickering nervously.

Enjolras paused a minute before answering, because he knew very well what he wished to do with Eponine, but he was not sure how she would react. "Well," he began slowly, "if it is all right with you, in time, I would very much like to marry you," he breathed.

She looked at him startled, "What?" she gasped.

"Eponine, I'm not the kind of person to get attached to many different women. You're the first girl who has ever caught my eye and I've fallen more in love with you every day that I've known you," he saw her eyes go wide with fear and disbelief so he hurriedly added, "We don't have to get married right away, but you asked so I'm not going to lie to you. I wanted to be very clear with what my intentions were—if you would like that, that is?" he asked nervous.

She blinked several times before mumbling, "I don't know…I've never seriously considered getting married—it never seemed to be a real option in my life."

Enjolras now felt a little awkward for having thrown the subject on her, "I don't need an answer now. You can take as much time as you want to decide," he told her softly. Suddenly he felt like he needed to distance himself from the situation and he stood up to go back to the table, but Eponine grabbed his wrist before he could walk away.

"Wait," she pleaded, looking up at him with fear filled eyes, but he felt hopeful as he saw her start to smile gently, "I think…" she began and then paused, "I've really enjoyed our time together so far. And I do love you. I think, with time, that would be an agreeable idea," she finished and her voice was low as she stopped talking; he had to strain to pick up on her words, but when he did he a wide smile formed on his face.

"I'm glad," he informed her as he pulled her up into a hug which she reciprocated.

xxx

Saturday morning, Enjolras stood in the back corner of the café with a very anxious Eponine as a handful of women trickled into the main room on the arms of different Amis. He watched as Marius came in with Cosette, who gave Eponine a shy wave, which Eponine returned. Enjolras had been told the girls' history the night before so he was happy to see that they were at least acknowledging each other. He hoped for all their sakes that they could put the past behind them and become friends.

In the doorway right behind Marius and Cosette, stood Joly and Bossuet arm in arm with a very loud Musichetta. Her voice glided over the air in the café and she immediately pranced over to Eponine and Enjolras to introduce herself.

"Enjolras dear," she cooed and gave him a very loud kiss on the cheek before she turned to Eponine, "And you must be Eponine. It's so nice to meet you! I've heard so much about you from Joly," she grasped Eponine's hand as she continued babbling, "It's  _such_  a great idea to put this group together! I've always told Joly and Bossuet that we ladies deserve to vote and have rights just as much as the men do, but I never knew what to do about it. So I am just so excited for this."

Her genuinely friendly smile and chatter seemed to have won Eponine over as the girl returned her smile and thanked her for being there, "I'm glad there's interest. I've only just begun thinking about political things like this, but it definitely seems to me that we should be equals to the men," Eponine agreed with Musichetta.

Musichetta beamed at the younger girl and wished her good luck before dancing over to where Joly and Bossuet were sitting. Eponine turned to Enjolras, "Is this everyone?" she asked. After taking a glance around the room he nodded.

"I think my friends and I will head off to the other room. Are you good?" he asked lightly as she still looked quite nervous.

Eponine straightened up and gave him a bright, if forced smile, "Yes I'll be good!"

Enjolras gave her a kiss and waved at his friends to indicate that they should follow him. As they exited the room Enjolras could not contain the smile that spread across his face when he heard Eponine's voice begin projecting over the small room.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cosette and Eponine interact

            The meeting had gone very well. Eponine breathed a sigh of relief as the last woman left and she sank down into a chair at the table she had been standing in front of for the last two hours. Her muscles felt weary and her head ached from speaking for so long. But she was so happy. All the other women had been so enthusiastic toward the idea of establishing a group to campaign for women’s rights and they had laid out a shaky plan for where to go from here. The group had decided that their next step would be to try and recruit as many people as possible to their cause. They were each going to try and contact anyone they thought might be sympathetic toward their cause over the next several days and regroup after that, as Enjolras did not think the convention would get to discussing suffrage until the following week.

            Enjolras came into the room and over to her, “How did it go?” He asked as he offered her his hand.

            She grasped his hand and reluctantly stood, “Well, I think. Everyone seemed interested and now we have a course of action!” she told him excitedly.

            “Excellent,” he began but was interrupted by a call from across the room.

            “Eponine!” Cosette’s voice came trilling across the room. Eponine looked up to see Cosette lingering by the door with Marius holding onto her arm, “I was wondering if you would want to try to obtain more members for our group together tomorrow?” the girl asked smiling kindly at Eponine.

            Eponine did not know what to say for a minute, shocked as she was at the girl’s gesture of good will. She looked at Enjolras in alarm and he just shrugged indicating it was obviously up to her. After too long a pause Eponine nodded and replied, “Yes, that sounds perfect,” and she tried to smile but it felt forced. She was still not used to kindness, especially from someone who had every right to hate her.

            “Wonderful,” Cosette seemed genuinely excited at the prospect of doing work for the group together, “If it’s all right with you, I will come by Enjolras’ flat,” she looked at the man slightly questioningly as if to confirm that was where Eponine was staying and he nodded to indicate the accuracy of that statement, “tomorrow morning to get you?”

            “That sounds fine,” Eponine answered quietly, her smile becoming a little more genuine.

            “Excellent!” Cosette enthused, “See you tomorrow then. Good-bye Enjolras.”

            Marius nodded at both Eponine and Enjolras and the couple left the café. As they disappeared through the door Eponine could not contain a grimace, “That will be fun,” she stated dryly.

            Enjolras frowned at her, “She seemed perfectly genuine,” Enjolras reprimanded.

            “That’s the problem,” Eponine sighed, “She’s too nice—I’m not sure I can handle it.”

            Enjolras wrapped an arm around her as he led her out of the café, “You’ll be fine. I’m sure she doesn’t resent what happened between you two as children.” Eponine just shook her head unsure.

            The next morning the knock that Eponine had been waiting for came rather early and she scrambled across the flat to answer the door.

            “Good morning Eponine!” Cosette said brightly as Eponine slipped out of the flat and they made their way into the street, “How are you?”

            Eponine awkwardly answered, “I’m fine,” and after a paused added, “How are you?”

            “I’m good. I’m so excited that you got this group together! It’s wonderful that we can fight for something and contribute!” Cosette said excitedly.

            Eponine nodded, “I think so. Now where are we off to?” she asked trying to take control of the situation. Since Eponine did not know many people, much less women who would want to join a political society, they were going to talk to some people that Cosette was acquainted with. Cosette had confessed the day before that she did not have many friends either, but she did know more respectable people than Eponine, so reluctantly, Eponine let Cosette lead the way toward a square where a market was set up. Eponine glanced nervously around the square—she had come here many times to lift small food items from vendors or purses from people’s pockets. She knew she looked different being clean and well dressed, but she was nervous someone might recognize her as the thief she was.

Cosette went right up to some women who were selling flowers and she began animatedly telling them all about the push for women’s suffrage. When they expressed interest, Cosette gestured to Eponine to start telling them in more detail what their plan was. After a bit, the women agreed to join their group and Eponine informed them of when the next meeting would be and when. This system continued for a while. They ran into some people who were rather hostile to the idea, but for the most part the women they talked to were very receptive.

They spent several hours in the square and they managed to recruit about twenty more members for their group and Eponine was elated. As the girls made their way back toward Enjolras’ flat, exhausted, Eponine gushed, “This is so exciting! People actually want to fight for this!” she grasped Cosette’s arm, “Thank you so much for your help with this,” she said sincerely.

Cosette clasped her hand, “No, thank you! I never would have thought to do something like this, although,” she tilted her head to the side as she studied Eponine, “I suppose Enjolras had some influence in this?” she asked teasingly.

Eponine laughed, “Oh yes, he was _very_ supportive of this whole issue and idea. He’ll be so happy to hear we had a successful day!”

Cosette smiled happily, “That’s wonderful,” she said and they continued down the street in silence for a few minutes.

Eponine could not help but ask, “Why are you being so nice to me?”

Cosette started, “What do you mean?”

“I was so terrible to you as a child—you have every right to hate me,” Eponine told her dejectedly.

“I don’t hate you,” Cosette said quietly. She had stopped walking and was tugging on Eponine’s arm trying to get her to look at her. Eponine, however, successfully avoided her gaze, choosing instead to study the cobblestones under her feet, which were clad in brand new shoes that Enjolras had brought her home one night. She was so lost in her thoughts and regrets from the past that she barely heard Cosette until the girl repeated, “Truly I don’t hate you—you were eight when I left, and that’s all your parents taught you, how were you supposed to know how to behave any better.”

Eponine sighed and pulled away, “That’s no excuse.”

“Eponine,” Cosette said firmly causing Eponine to look up startled, “I really don’t hate you for what transpired between us as children. If anything I feel like you should hate me. I’m the one who got out of the bad situation and yours only got worse.”

“I did hate you. I hated you for a long time after you left and then again when Marius first saw you and had me running all over town to find you and take you letters. But, I don’t hate you anymore,” Eponine said quietly.

Cosette smiled happily, “See? Neither of us hates the other! That means me can be friends,” she declared throwing her arms around Eponine in a surprise hug.

Eponine was too startled to do anything for a moment, but then she returned the girl’s embrace, “If that’s what you want.”

“Oh I do!” Cosette assured her, “especially since our fiancés are friends it will make life so much more delightful if we can be friends as well!”

“Enjolras and I are not engaged yet,” Eponine quickly corrected her.

“You will be soon enough I’m sure,” Cosette said confidently, “I saw the way he was looking at you yesterday—he’s completely smitten.”

Eponine was quiet the rest of the way back to Enjolras’ flat as she mulled over Cosette’s observation. She knew Enjolras said he loved her and wanted to marry her, but the whole situation still seemed surreal to her and it warmed her heart to know that his regard for her was visible to onlookers.

That evening, when she relayed to Enjolras what had happened during the day and the success the girls had had in recruiting members for their group, he was very pleased for them. “That’s excellent! I believe we will be deliberating suffrage toward the beginning of next week, so the sooner you can get something bigger going the better,” he paused and studied her, “Actually I wanted to talk about that,” he said carefully.

“Yes—what about?” she asked curiously. Eponine could not understand why Enjolras looked nervous.

He cleared his throat, “Well an idea was being floated that we allow groups who wish to be granted suffrage have a representative come speak before the convention. The groups for which suffrage is ehm, controversial. Personally I think it’s ridiculous and we should just give everyone the right to vote in the upcoming elections, but this is what was decided. So I was hoping that you would be willing to speak on behalf of the women,” he warily looked at her to see how she was going to react.

Eponine was speechless for a minute, “You…you want me…to…to speak on behalf of all the women in France?”

Enjolras nodded, “I know it’s a lot to ask and it’s unfair because they’re not making the men present the reasons they should be granted suffrage, but I know you’ve been preparing why women should be given suffrage so I think you would be prepared. I heard most of your speech yesterday and it was exceptional for someone who had never spoken before a crowd before.”

 “Really? You thought so?” Eponine asked. Enjolras was such an accomplished orator himself, so if he thought she had done well than that really meant something.

“Yes and with a little preparation you could be even better in front of the convention.”

“Okay then,” Eponine gave him a wavering smile.

As they sat down to a light supper Eponine remembered that Enjolras had been spending most of his waking hours arguing about all manners of government and she had been so wrapped up in her own political movement that she had forgotten to ask him how his work was going.

She asked him now and he launched into an extensive explanation of how the legislature was going to be set up, when elections were going to be held (sometime in September), and how the government was planning on assisting the poor. Enjolras spent a long while talking about training workshops that the convention was going to set up within the next month to help get those who had no form of employment an opportunity to develop some sort of marketable skill. Eponine listened thoughtfully and considered all of the respectable men and women she knew who could not find work for various reasons and she hoped they would take advantage of these workshops.

It was when Enjolras began going on about how basic education would be compulsory for all children—boys and girls—that Eponine stopped him. “Wait,” she interrupted, “They want both boys and girls to be required to go to school?”

“Yes that’s right—it is better to have an educated populace if we want to try and hold onto the republic,” Enjolras told her.

Eponine pondered this, “So if they think girls should go to school and get educated why don’t they think girls should be able to vote? If they’re educated doesn’t that take away a lot of the issues that people have with women voting?”

Enjolras nodded, “It deals with the stated issues at least,” he sighed, “Mainly it’s a power and control issue and no one’s going to admit that. Much of the public is not going to like that we are requiring girls to go to school either.”

“But you do?” Eponine clarified.

“Yes of course,” Enjolras looked at her like she was crazy to think anything else.

“Good” Eponine smiled, “It might be in our favor if the convention thought education should be required of girls, even against public opinion,” she considered out loud.

“You’re right,” Enjolras agreed. The way he smiled at her made Eponine’s stomach flutter and she had to look away from his gaze. But when she did he was at her side and kissing her sweetly.

At the next meeting of the women’s society a few days later, Eponine related to the other ladies what Enjolras had told her about wanting a speaker to make a plea for women’s suffrage. They all agreed that Eponine should be the one to give the speech, since she knew the most about their cause.

There were many new recruits, even beyond those that Cosette and Eponine had managed to enlist. The back room in the café was filled for this meeting and Eponine had been a little nervous as she had started speaking, but she quickly got her nerves under control when she reminded herself that she would have to speak in front of an even larger group before the next week was up. It also helped that everyone who came up to speak to her was so nice and friendly—she had not been in the presence of so many genuinely pleasant women in her life and it was nice to have some female company.

As she was speaking, one of the new recruits interrupted Eponine and asked, “How do we know they will even listen to us?” referring to the convention members.

Eponine nodded, understanding the girl’s doubt, “Well we don’t,” she said frankly, “But they seem open to new ideas,” she said as she told the girls about how the convention had decided that education was to be compulsory for girls as well as boys.

There were murmurs of interest at that statement and the same girl had a follow up question: “All right, so say they are interested in listening to you when you give your speech—what are the rest of us supposed to do to help?”

The girl’s second question had dozen of faces staring at Eponine expectantly, “I was thinking,” she began repeating a suggestion that Enjolras had given her the night before, “that we could organize in front of the hall, where the convention meets, for a few days prior to the discussions about suffrage and of course during those discussions and hand out pamphlets detailing why we deserve the right to vote and just generally making our voices heard.”

The broad sense of the group was agreement with that suggestion, so the women spent several hours planning out their course of action for the rest of the week before the convention began discussing the question of suffrage.

 

 

            


	20. Chapter 20

            The morning of the first demonstration of the _Les Femmes de l'France_ , as they had begun calling themselves, dawned bright and clear. Eponine stood with Cosette and Musichetta at the forefront of the crowd of women standing outside where the convention assembled, clutching signs and banner, armed with pamphlets to pass out as the convention members came to the meeting.

            They had gathered early, just at the break of dawn, to be there before convention members could arrive. Enjolras had walked to the hall with Eponine and was already inside, probably working furiously. Marius, Joly, and Bossuet, had come with Cosette and Musichetta and were standing toward the edges of the crowd just in case things took a turn for the worst.

            It was the reaction to the protest that most terrified Eponine. Not, the fact that she had to give a speech in front of the assembly, or that they might not be heard, but it was that she had no clue how the people of Paris would react to a group of women looking for a voice. She remembered how some people had reacted during their recruiting efforts—they had been downright hostile to the girls and she knew that many would be threatened by the large gathering they had put together.

            As the sun rose higher in the sky, convention members began trickling into the hall. As the first members approached the door, Musichetta and Cosette intercepted them, handed them a pamphlet, and begin talking animatedly about women voting and the convention members listened to what the girls had to say. They seemed receptive to their arguments, but did not say anything, except to thank the girls for expressing their position, before they pushed past them into the hall.

            The next men that walked up were Eponine’s to speak with. Her hands were shaking slightly as she approached the two men, who looked to be slightly older than any of Enjolras’ usual companions. They both had mid-length dark hair that was pulled back behind their heads. Their clothing had the well-dressed air of bourgeois, but she could tell their garments were slightly too old for the men to be very well off. The colors were faded and their waistcoats had one too many wrinkles that could not be pressed out. They looked at her with polite interest—there was no hostility in their gaze as she approached them, which calmed her nerves a little.

            When she stopped in front of the men, Eponine handed each of the men a pamphlet, “We are the _Les Femmes de l'France_ and we are petitioning the convention to consider that women should be able to vote. This pamphlet details some of our major arguments. My name is Eponine; I will be speaking before you tomorrow. We believe that women have just as much of a right as men to be able to vote, especially since all girls will be going to school as well as the boys. We will be just as educated. We deserve to have a right to express what will happen in France. Not all of us have fathers or husbands to speak for us and it is not fair to deny us that right,” she finished and took a gulp of air as she watched the men for their reaction.

            Their looks gave nothing away, but they both were smiling kindly at her and one of them said, “Merci, mademoiselle Eponine for expressing your opinion—we look forward to hearing more of what you have to say tomorrow,” and with that they both went into the hall.

            Feeling a rush of relief and adrenaline at getting her first opportunity to speak with convention members done and done successfully, Eponine turned back to where the other girls had spread out to talk to more members who had begun to approach.

            Musichetta grabbed her hand, “Well done, ma cheri! They seem to be most receptive to us! Just wait we will win yet!” she exclaimed and then beamed at the younger girl.

            Eponine smiled back, “Hopefully,” she allowed.

            An hour later the girls had spoken with the majority of the convention members. Most had at least been polite, if not receptive. A few had frowned at Eponine as she spoke to them before they had brushed quickly past her. One had started yelling at Musichetta that she had no place blocking him from getting to his important work of building a government. When Joly and Bossuet had moved protectively toward her, the man had brushed past her and into the building, but not before muttering under his breath about, “The _prostituées_ and their heads filled with hot air.”

            It had taken both Joly and Bossuet to hold back a fuming Musichetta as she had tried to fly at the man’s retreating head.

            Besides that incident, the majority of the morning had been exciting. As the girls were disbanding, promising to meet up the same time the next morning to be supportive as Eponine gave her talk to the convention, Eponine stayed by the entrance to the hall with Cosette and Musichetta.

            “Oh, Eponine, this was fantastic! I think we made some real headway!” Cosette cried and threw her arms around Eponine. Eponine stiffened as the girl’s affectionate touch made her uncomfortable. She awkwardly patted the girl’s arm.

            “I hope so!” Eponine returned. She was feeling quite optimistic. The three girls, plus Joly, Bossuet, and Marius, began making their way toward the café, where they were supposed to meet Enjolras later, once he finished with the morning meetings. Eponine could not wait to hear if any of the convention members had said anything to him about their gathering.  

            They were barely one-hundred feet from the convention hall, when a face Eponine had hoped to never see again was suddenly inches from hers, as meaty hands wrapped around her waist, “Think you can get away from me, you worthless _chienne_ ,” her father sneered. He held her tightly to him and began backing away from her gapping friends. Marius and Bossuet lunged forward to try and save her, but her father raised his knife to her throat as they did, “If you ever want to see her alive again, you won’t do that,” he warned menacingly.

            Eponine gulped as she felt the cold blade press into her neck. She squinted her eyes shut and prayed that Marius and Bossuet would listen. They must have backed off, because her father’s knife relented a little bit. Eponine opened her eyes and saw her friends staring at her helplessly as her father took her farther away from them.

            When Thenardier seemed satisfied that the men would not attack him from behind, he turned around and threw Eponine over his shoulder as he slunk into an alleyway. Eponine felt the blood rush to her head as her face was buried, upside down, in the coarse fabric of her father’s stolen jacket. His fingers gripped into her hip uncomfortably and he was moving too fast so she was being jostled all over the place. She could handle the discomfort of the transport, but she was more terrified than she cared to admit, about what he was planning to do with her. She concentrated on breathing evenly and trying to keep her wits about her as her father moved through the back streets of Paris, never running into another soul. _Thenardiers are much too good at avoiding people,_ Eponine thought with a grimace as she had been hoping there might be people around wherever they were going, but she knew that hope was slim and she was fairly certain her father would kill her regardless of his audience.

            She was jolted out of her thoughts when her father stopped abruptly in front of the building she used to call home. He threw her to her feet and grumbled, “Come on girl,” as he yanked too hard on her arm and pulled her after him. He opened the creaky door to the building and pulled her inside and up the rickety stairs. Every step they made resounded in the shamble of a building. Her father was silent as they walked upstairs—he had still not given an indication of what he was going to do with her, which only increased Eponine’s terror as they entered her family’s grimy flat.

            Thenardier threw Eponine down on the lice filled couch and muttered, “Stay,” as he disappeared into the back room. Eponine shifted around, trying to get comfortable even though she could feel the prick on her legs of tiny bite marks being left by hundreds of tiny bugs and the dirt ground into the fabric was already transferring itself onto her dress and skin.

            Eponine looked around, surveying the room she had not seen in over two weeks. Nothing had changed. The floors were still covered in all manner of dirt because her mother never felt like cleaning. The window was covered with a wooden shutter as there was nothing else covering the hole in the wall, since they could not afford glass, and the room was very dark with only a crack of light breaking through the wooden barrier. The room was probably better with less light—it hid the majority of the filth. Besides the sack of a couch she was currently sitting on, the only other piece of furniture in the room was a wobbly table with only three chairs around it. All of the legs on the table were uneven so the table top was slanted. It was covered in a raggedy table cloth that she herself had stolen from the market one day, years ago, and now only showed hints of the finery that it once was.

She never realized how little she would miss this place, but a shudder went through her at the thought that this had been her home. Now it did not have the faintest feeling of home. She thought of Enjolras’ tidy little flat that she had occupied for the past weeks. But, as she thought of Enjolras a wave of panic swept through her as she thought of Enjolras’ reaction when he found out she had been kidnapped by her father, as Marius and the others had surely told him as soon as they could. She hoped that he would not do anything rash and show up here. Marius knew here her family lived and she did not want any of them in this situation—her father would not hesitate to kill any of them.

She heard a slap and a shout from the conjoining room and then her mother’s voice sleepily grumbled at her father, “What do you want. I was sleeping.”

“Its midday, woman,” her father scorned, “Get up, you have a visitor.”

“Who is that? Tell them to go away,” her mother complained.

“It’s your daughter.”

“Azelma’s hardly a visitor—I’d be surprised if she has even left today,” her mother replied. At her words Eponine glanced around the room searching for her younger sister. There were only two rooms in the flat so if her sister was here, she was probably cowering somewhere in the main room. Sure enough, in the far right corner, hidden in the shadows cast by the blocked window, was a small girl cowering, desperately trying to not be noticed.

“Azelma?” Eponine whispered, which caused her sister to jerk her head up and stare horrified at being discovered. Eponine cast a furtive glance toward the door to the second room and quietly asked, “Have you been all right?’ as much as her sister’s timid nature had always annoyed her, she still was her sister and Eponine hated the idea of her father being hard on her.

The red head nodded and opened her mouth to say something, but the swinging of the door and her father booming into the room caused her to squeak and shove her fist into her mouth to muffle the noise as she tried to go back into hiding.

Eponine’s attention was focused on her father as he strode into the room with her mother close behind him. Madame Thenardier’s face lit up briefly as she spotted her eldest child sitting in the living area, but her scowl returned as her husband turned around to face her. Despite many of her faults, Eponine’s mother truly did care for her daughters, in her own way. She never helped them or did anything that would risk angering her husband and she would not stand up for them if their father tried to hurt or kill them, but she tried to show them affection now and them. Eponine would have been more accepting of her mother, if she had shown the same attention to their younger brothers, but they had all been sold or cast into the streets at a young age. Eponine had not seen them in years.

“Look who I found,” Thenardier snarled at his eldest daughter, who rose from the couch to diffidently stare at him, “Worthless girl, finally decided to come back to her loving kin.”

Something inside Eponine snapped at the sarcastic terms of endearment, “I don’t think it was my decision when you grabbed me off the streets and threatened my life,” she retorted.

Thenardier glowered and advanced toward her, “Well where have you been these past weeks? You know you’re not supposed to disappear for multiple days at a time. You need to earn your keep and support your family. We especially need your help in our work now. Do you know Montparnasse is _dead_?” Eponine could not stop herself from wincing as she recalled her friend’s death, “Ah, so you do know,” her father said, studying her thoughtfully.

“Yes, I was aware,” Eponine replied.

“So where have you been that you know that? Because according to my sources he died one on of the barricades. One of the barricades that somehow _my_ gang convinced the people of the slums to help protect. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that would you _dearest daughter_?” Her father was practically beaming as Eponine fidgeted uncomfortably under his stare.

She cleared her throat, “I may know something about that,” she allowed, keeping her gaze steady on her father, trying to not show him any fear. At her admission she heard another squeak of fear out of Azelma, so she was not shocked when her father had forced her up against the couch and had his knife pressing into the base of her throat yet again.

“Now, why would you know about that?” he cackled, “You wouldn’t have happened to go around and convince my men to do your dirty work and help your precious little rich friends would you?”

In spite of the knife cutting into her neck, Eponine raised her chin as she haughtily replied, “No, I have no idea what you are talking about,” in a tone that she knew gave away that she knew _exactly_ what he was talking about, but she did not care. She had suffered through much over the past weeks and accomplished more, so she decided she was no longer scared of what her rat of father would do to her. Eponine knew that she had done the right thing, regardless of whether or not her father thought she had done right by him.

She waited unflinchingly for the deeper press of the knife into her skin, but it did not come. Instead, after a pause, her father roared and the knife flashed as it cut a downward diagonal stripe across her lips. The pain fogged her mind as she tasted the coppery tang of blood welling in her mouth, and she felt tears form in the corners of her eyes, but she did not give her father the satisfaction of crying out.

He backed away from her still brandishing the knife, “That will teach you to lie to me _salope_. Just be glad I couldn’t reach your tongue,” Thenardier turned to the door and flicked his hand over his shoulder, “Lock them both up in the bedroom,” he instructed his wife as he left the flat with a cold laugh.

Once he was gone, Madame Thenardier sighed and threw a dirty cloth at Eponine, “Clean yourself up girl; you’re getting blood all over my clean floors.”

Eponine rolled her eyes at her mother, but accepted the cloth and gingerly pressed it to her lips. The cut did not feel deep, but it burnt like fire and she gasped as she touched it. Azelma was at her side in an instant.

“’Ponine,” she whispered fearfully, with a glance over her shoulder at their mother, “Are you going to be okay ‘Ponine?”

Eponine reached out a comforting hand to rub her sister’s shoulder, “I’ll be fine, it’s just a cut,” she also glanced toward their mother who was looking between them and the bedroom regretfully, “Guess we better get in the bedroom ‘Zel,” she said as she tugged her sister in the room and shut the door after them. She heard her mother slide the latch across the door once they were inside.

With no window at all, the bedroom was even darker than the main room and Azelma climbed onto the bed and started crying. Eponine tried her best to comfort her sister and staunch her own bleeding, while trying to figure a way out her predicament. All she wanted right then was to feel Enjolras’ comforting arms around her. She fell asleep, imagining that she heard his voice bursting into the other room as he searched for her. 


	21. Chapter 21

When Enjolras saw Bossuet and Marius come rushing into the convention hall, interrupting the man who had been speaking, and shouting his name, he felt his heart drop. He ran down toward his friends, apologetically nodding for the speaker to continue, as he ushered them out of the main room.

            Once they were in a corridor, he grab one of each of their shoulders’ frantically and gasped, “What is it?” hoping against all odds that it was something stupid and silly and he could just go back to work, exasperated at his friends, but he knew from the looks on their faces that whatever was the matter, it was something serious.

            “Eponine,” Marius choked out, but stopped as Enjolras transferred the hand that had been on Bossuet’s shoulder to Marius’ other side and shook his friend, angrily willing him to spit it out, “Eponine…” Marius began again but paused and gulped nervously, “She…her father…kidnapped her,” he finally managed to say.

            Enjolras let his hands fall from his friend in a daze, anger and fear bubbling in the pit of his stomach. His mouth was agape as he turned to his friends who were watching him intently, “Did he give any hint about where he was taking her?” he asked, voice quiet and calculating as his thoughts ran over the hundreds of possibilities of what could be happening to Eponine at that very minute. He remembered Eponine’s fears at the thought of returning home having abandoned her father during one of his criminal acts.

            Bossuet shook his head, but Marius looked thoughtful, “Well,” he began, only to be met with Enjolras’ frightening glare yet again, “I know where she used to live—where her family lives. Do you think he might have taken her there?”

            Two pairs of eyes were trained on Enjolras waiting for him to make a decision, “I guess it’s the only thing we’ve got to work on, so let’s head there,” he decided and whirled out of the corridor, half running toward the door, with Bossuet and Marius close behind him.

            Enjolras let Marius overtake him when they reached the street, as he realized he had no idea where they were headed. “Come on,” Marius called running past his friends and waving over his shoulder, “She lives this way!”

            The trio took off down the street, barely managing to swerve and avoid innocent pedestrians. It did not take long for Marius to lead them to the building where the Thenardiers lived. He stopped outside the front stoop and turned around to Enjolras and Bossuet, “Should we just burst in there? Or do we need a plan?”

            Enjolras frowned. He had no clue what they should do. At this point he really wished they had thought to fetch Bahorel, as he would be much better in a fight if it came to that. He studied the building for a minute, “We don’t even know if they’re in there. So maybe we should just go up and listen at the door and try to figure out what we are dealing with?” he suggested. If Eponine was up there potentially being hurt by her father, he did not want to waste another minute deliberating outside. Marius and Bossuet nodded in agreement with his plan and they had just turned to head into the building, when they heard footsteps thundering down the stairs inside.

            “Over here!” Marius motioned for his friends to hide beside the stoop and try to avoid whoever was coming out. It was lucky he had, for as soon as Enjolras and Bossuet were crouched down next to the wall beside Marius, Thenardier came crashing out of the building, muttering to himself.

            Marius inclined his head to the departing man before he muttered, “That’s her father,” to clarify for his two friends.

            “What is he saying?” Bossuet tried to whisper, but unlucky as he generally was, Thenardier heard him and whirled around spying the three men as he did. Enjolras did not wait for Thenardier to react; he surged forward and grasped the smaller man by his collar and finding some unknown strength, pulled the man up off his feet, making him gag as his loosened cravat dug into his neck.

            “Where is Eponine,” Enjolras icily demanded, voice dangerously low as he stared down Eponine’s father.

            The man got a steely glint in his eye and just chuckled, “Why would I tell you? It’s my business where my own daughter is, not yours,” Thenardier spat at Enjolras.

            Enjolras did not flinch, but just gripped the man’s collar more tightly in his hand, “Tell me where she is and what you did with her this instant,” he said in a venomous whisper. Behind him, Enjolras could hear Bossuet and Marius moving to stand on either side of him, backing him up. He noticed Thenardier’s eyes flick to each of them three men before he spoke.

            “She’s inside,” he muttered and began squirming trying to get away again. Enjolras dropped the man and rushed inside the building, not even bothering to see where Eponine’s father slunk off to.

            He charged up the stairs, hearing Marius shout from behind him, “Third floor, fifth door on the right!” giving him the needed directions to which flat was the Thenardiers’. Approaching the door, Enjolras paused for a second, and not hearing any noise coming from the flat, he burst inside, shouting Eponine’s name.

            He was greeted by the sight of a middle-aged, robust woman, in raggedy clothing, standing by a rickety table, staring at him in shock. Judging from her looks, Enjolras deducted that she must be Eponine’s mother, for she looked quite similar to her daughter, but in a less pleasant sort of way. At first, Enjolras could not figure out what the difference was, for the woman had the same bone structure and same brown eyes, although her hair was auburn instead of Eponine’s dark brown hair, and then he realized that her brown eyes were flat and beady, staring at him without the spark of goodness and intelligence that Eponine’s always held.

            Fighting back a shudder at the realization, Enjolras tried to control his anger as he asked the woman, “Is Eponine here?” The woman nodded dumbfounded and jerked her thumb toward the closed and latched, door at the side of the room.

            Enjolras brushed past her and undid the latch, walking into a pitch black room to find Eponine and a younger girl sitting up on a bed, blinking at the light that flooded into the room from the open door.

            “Enjolras?” Eponine asked uncertainly.

            “Eponine!” he cried and rushed forward to envelope her in a tight embrace, which she returned.

            As he was pulling her off the bed and helping her to stand Eponine resisted for a minute, falling back onto the bed and looking at him, confusion clear on her face, “How…why…what are you doing here?” she finally asked.

            “Looking for you,” he replied shortly, still trying to tug her away, “Marius and Bossuet are outside, let’s go.”

            Eponine stood finally, but turned to look at the girl still sitting on the bed, eyes wide with fear. Eponine turned to Enjolras, “I can’t just leave my sister,” she whispered to him.

            Enjolras looked between the two girls, “Then she can come back to our flat,” he offered, holding a hand out to the other girl.

            But the younger girl shook her head, “I can’t leave, Eponine—father would kill me if he came back to find us both gone. You go, I’ll be fine.”

            Eponine’s eyes filled with terror and she reached out and grabbed her sister, wrapping her arms tightly around her, “Azelma, you have to come with us, it’s much safer to get you away from here. He will probably hurt you badly as is,” Eponine pleaded, practically shaking her sister.

            But Azelma just shook her head and gave Eponine another hug, before she sat back down on the bed and raised her chin, in a mimicry of Eponine’s determined expression, “No, you know I’m not as brave as you, ‘Ponine. I have to stay. I’ll be fine. Mama won’t let him hurt me too badly.”

            Eponine looked like she was close to tears, so Enjolras made one last plea to the sister, “Please, really, you can come with us,” but the girl just shook her head sadly, resigned to her fate. Enjolras realized that Eponine was not going to be able to convince her sister otherwise—the girl looked to be just as determined as he had seen Eponine look in the past. So Enjolras just nodded in understanding at the younger girl and gently took Eponine’s hand, “Come on; we have to be going,” he told her and slowly started pulling her out of the room.

            Eponine grabbed Azelma’s hand and grasped it, while still allowing Enjolras to take her away. When the girls’ arms had been stretched to their fullest extent, Azelma sadly dropped her sister’s hand and gave her a small smile. Eponine bit her lip in determination and assured her sister, “I will come back for you soon.”

            Azelma just shook her head as if she did not believe her sister and moved to return to her place on the bed as Enjolras and Eponine disappeared around the corner and out of sight of the bedroom.

            As soon as Eponine let go of her sister’s hand, Enjolras began to pull her more rapidly away. Neither of them acknowledged Madame Thenardier as they hurried for the door. Once in the hallway, with Marius and Bossuet, Eponine gave a sob and buried her head in Enjolras’ shoulder as he led them out of the building and onto the street.

            Once they were out of the worse sections of Paris, Marius and Bossuet left Enjolras and Eponine to go rejoin Joly and the girls where they had left them at the café and Enjolras and Eponine headed toward their flat.

            When they were alone, Eponine pulled away from Enjolras and they made the rest of the way to the flat in silence, Eponine staring sullenly at the ground and Enjolras watching her intently.

            Enjolras was beginning to become worried at what Eponine was thinking, but as they were nearing the flat, she finally spoke up and said, “I can’t believe I left her,” in a small voice. Enjolras felt his heart drop at the sadness in her voice and reached over to take her hand and just silently listened as she continued, “I should have made her come with us. Now she’s alone with our father.”

            “She wouldn’t have come Eponine,” Enjolras pointed out, which just earned him a glare, but he continued, “She was giving you the same look you gave me when you were trying to convince me to let you come to the barricade,” Eponine looked at him startled, “She was very determined to stay.”

            Eponine appeared to think about this as they climbed the stairs to the flat. While Enjolras was opening the door she stated, “I’ll have to figure out a way to help her,” and then after a pause she added, “and Gavroche.”

            Enjolras started and turned around to stare at Eponine, “Gavroche? Why would you need to help Gavroche?”

            “He’s my brother,” Eponine said matter-of-factly.

            “He is?” Enjolras asked incredulously. The little boy had never mentioned having family, but if all the family he had was terrible thieving parents, then Enjolras could not really blame him.

            Eponine frowned at him, “Yes. Do you know him?”

            Enjolras nodded, “He used to hang around our group a lot. He was at the barricades. His friends and he acted as messengers between the barricades,” honestly, Enjolras was surprised Eponine had not seen him, even though she had been unconscious for much of the battle—the little boy always seemed to be everywhere all at once.

            “He was!” Eponine gasped, “How could I have missed him! Have you seen him since?” Eponine looked up at him, her face displaying her anxiousness at the thought of having news of her brother.

            Enjolras shook his head, “No I don’t think I’ve seen him since the day the convention first met,” he told her and watched her face fall, “He does not live with your family, correct? Why? When was the last time you saw him?” he asked curious, as to why the boy lived on the streets as he thought he did.                    

            Eponine sighed and moved slowly toward the couch, where she perched sadly as she began her story, “No, he ran away when he was ten or so, because of our parents’ hatred toward him. They beat him worse than Azelma and me,” Eponine grimacing as the memories flashed before her eyes, “And they treated him like trash. At least with ‘Zel and I, our mother liked us enough and made our father not hit us too hard, but Gavroche was just another worthless mouth to feed to them. So finally, he had enough and he just left. I haven’t seen him in a while and I miss him,” Eponine trailed off sadly hanging her head.

            Her depression made Enjolras wrap his arms around her and pull her into a tight embrace, “I’m sorry,” he said, “If I see him soon, I will let him know you are looking for him,” he gripped her tighter, “And we will figure out a way to help both of them—Azelma and Gavroche.”

            Eponine smiled up at him through the tears glistening unshed in her eyes, “ _Merci_ ,” she whispered, leaning up to brush her lips against his jaw.

            They remained entangled in each other’s arms for a long while, as Enjolras was just glad to have Eponine back safe and sound. Eventually, Eponine pulled back from him with a sigh and stood up.

            She leaned down to press a kiss to the top of his head, “Thank you for finding me so quickly. I was rather surprised to hear your voice,” she laughed in relief at the memory, before she smirked, “I would have gotten away eventually though. So you don’t always need to rush to my aid.”

            Enjolras laughed, “I’m sure,” he grinned, “But I enjoy rushing to your aid,” he assured her as he also stood up, happy to see her smiling again, “Don’t you have a speech to be working on now?” he teased as he pushed her toward the table.

            Eponine frowned, “Yes, yes, I know, I’m on it,” she waved her hand brushing him away. So Enjolras just smiled and picked up his own work as they settled into their happy little evening routine. 


	22. Chapter 22

            Eponine stood at the back of the hall, breathing quickly; nerves bubbling in her stomach, with Cosette at her right side and Musichetta at her left, each grasping an elbow in anxious anticipation. The man currently giving a speech was just finishing up and Eponine was slated to go up next. _Les Femmes de l'France_ all stood behind the three girls, crowded into the back of the hall, ready to offer moral support and a show of solidarity to the convention members.

            Cosette squeezed her arm and whispered in her ear, “You can do this,” with an encouraging smile, as the man speaking finished and the leader of the convention was introducing the next topic for discussion. Eponine turned and smiled at the girl, taking deep breaths to settle her pounding heart. After that, she kept her eyes trained across the room on Enjolras, who sat directly in front of her with a calm smile on his face as he alternated between watching her and paying attention to the convention leader.

            She was so absorbed in staying calm that she missed her name being called to come to the front of the room. It was only after Musichetta pushed her forward with a whispered, “You’re on!” that Eponine realized she had the eyes of all the committee members on her as she cautiously made her way to the middle of the room. Suddenly realizing that she should put on an air of confidence, even if she did not feel it, Eponine lifted her head, threw her shoulders back, and marched the final feet to the speaker’s stand with determination. She was surprised by the surge of confidence it actually gave her.

            Reaching the stand, she placed her notes on the table and shuffled them a minute before looking up and around the hall. Tens of eyes gazed down at her, some reproachfully, some curious, some uninterested. She gulped and looked forward into the one set of eyes that truly mattered, willing herself to focus on the task at hand.

            “Gentlemen, thank you for giving me the opportunity to present the case of women’s suffrage before you this morning,” Eponine began, her voice wavering slightly, but as she watched Enjolras’ mouth turn up in an encouraging smile, she drew strength from that and continued, “We, _Les Femmes de l'France_ , believe that women have just as much of a right as men to vote for those who will represent us in the new government. Many may believe that women do not have the same capacity to make decisions as men do, but I petition that that is patently false. According to resolutions you have already passed, girls will be required to go to school, just as boys will be—they will receive the same education. If you, in your hearts believe that girls are as capable of school as the boys, then saying that the women these girls grow into should not be allowed the same enfranchisement as the men, you are contradicting yourself.

Many girls already are taught to read and write nowadays and find great enjoyment in these pursuits. Many of the women you see standing before you,” Eponine said and gestured to the group of women who had accompanied her, “are very well read, in all manners of topics. I, myself, unfortunately, the daughter of a renowned thief, did not come of age in the lap of luxury, but sitting on the streets. However, I have still found many ways to expand my mind and have always taken every opportunity to learn what I can. You will find many women here, with similar stories.

Some of you may believe that a woman’s place is in the home and thus she has no place either in a school, gaining an education, or in politics. However, these positions can come together quite easily. For one, many women, do not have the luxury of having a home, or having an honest father, brother, or husband to take care of them and represent them in the political realm. There are many widows and orphans or those of us who have despicable family members whom desert us or whom we must desert and thus, if women do not have a vote, we will not be represented in anyway. Would you leave hundreds of citizens voiceless in our new French Republic?” Eponine paused to let her question sink in and take a breath, glancing briefly down at her notes.

            “Even those of us who do have good family situations, still deserve a voice. Many say, women are supposed to take care of the home, and children. But the newly elected legislature and the government will have much effect on home life and children. If women do not have a voice in who makes these decisions, the government is unfairly intervening in how a woman runs her home, which is supposedly her main job. Government will be running the new schools that women will have to send their children to. Government is in charge of sanitation and lessening the pains of poverty and famine. It is government who gets involved in trying to control epidemics when diseases rip through the streets and it is government who is in charge of keeping the people safe from those unsavory members of society, who would do us harm. Government affects many areas of the peoples’ life and to deny women a vote, would be to prevent them from taking full charge of what society dictates is their main duty and goal in life—to protect and care for their family, children, and home. We hope that you gentlemen of the convention take our voices into account as you debate the issues of suffrage. Thank you for your time.”

            Letting out a whoosh of air in relief, Eponine bowed her head and stepped down from the podium. She did not dare meet the eyes of any of the convention members, but she did chance a glance at Enjolras and saw that he was smiling at her and looking very proud, so maybe her speech had not been that bad.

            She made her way toward the group of women standing at the back of the hall and Cosette and Musichetta attacked her with hugs and quiet congratulations immediately, “That was amazing Eponine. You were amazing,” Cosette gushed, “There is no way they can ignore us after a speech like that!”

            Eponine just hugged them back, dazed that they thought she had done well, but as she released her friends, she remembered what Enjolras had told her that morning, “Oh!” she started, “We are supposed to leave now—Enjolras said it would be a long while before they actually got to the vote—lots of debate and such before then, so no use sticking around.”

            She gestured for the group of girls flocking excitedly around her to head toward the exit and they did.  They regrouped once they were outside and all the women looked at Eponine expectantly, waiting to learn what they should do next.

            Thinking for a moment, Eponine turned and started walking down the street toward the café, “Come on!” She called over her shoulder, waving at _Les Femmes de l'France_ to follow her, “We can wait at the café to hear what their decision will be.”

            A tense handful of hours passed. At first the girls had all chattered excitedly as they got food and drink and relaxed together, enjoying each other’s company and the feeling that they had tried their best to make a difference for the women of France. But as the hands of the clock dragged forward, without any of the men, that they knew were still at the convention hall, coming to give them any news, anxiety began to set in.

            “Shouldn’t we have heard _something_ by now?” Musichetta wailed as she threw herself forlornly down on the tabletop, “Surely Joly or Bossuet at least should have come by with an update—they have to guess we are here.”

            Cosette began gently rubbing the girl’s back as Eponine sighed, “I would think so. Enjolras practically told me to bring everyone here after my talk and I really didn’t think it would take _this_ long for them to debate suffrage. From what I know it seemed like they all had a general idea of who they want to grant suffrage too,” she said frowning as she clutched at the mug sitting in front of her. Then, she perked up slightly, “Maybe we changed some opinions—maybe this means we gave them something to think about and discuss. Maybe this wait is a good thing!” Eponine ventured. As she thought aloud, the air around her shifted as some of the other girls’ despair converted into hopeful excitement.

            Musichetta lifted her head slightly and looked at Eponine very seriously, “Yes dear, your brilliant speech most definitely made them think. I noticed you did not look to see what their expressions were, but trust me cheri, you left most of them dumbfounded. I am quite certain it is your fault that we are being held in suspense for hours,” she added with a teasing smile.

            Eponine ducked her head and smiled softly, “I hope so.”

            Just then, there was a commotion from out on the streets and everyone in the café quieted. Eponine stood up, getting ready to rush outside and see what was going on, but before she could move, Enjolras burst through the door followed by the other men. She froze and he ran up to her and grasped her shoulder with a smile.

            She watched him with a cautious smile of her own, “What news do you have?” she asked slowly.

            “Good news,” he said and Eponine heard Musichetta and Cosette gasp and move closer toward her, “Can I have everyone’s attention!” Enjolras called needlessly as everyone in the room already had their eyes fixed on him, “I have just come from the convention hall and after a strenuous, hours long debate, the convention has passed suffrage for all men,” he paused and fixed his eyes on Eponine again, “and women,” he finished as a cheer went up around the room and all girls began hugging one another. He then moved forward until he was standing barely a breath away from Eponine and whispered, “Congratulations,” before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

            In that moment, Eponine felt her world all coming together. In just a few short weeks everything had shifted. Before she had been a poor girl with little but the dream of a better tomorrow; now, she had friends and Enjolras and she had successfully helped to bring about women’s suffrage in France. Who would have thought that the dirty daughter of a thief would be able to accomplish part of her dream? Eponine pulled away and smiled up at Enjolras, before turning to celebrate with the other women. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about this chapter. It was kind of a struggle to write.


	23. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tying up the lose ends

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a warning for mentions of rape. Also I changed the rating on this. What happens is not really bad or explicit; I just wanted to be sure. This is it! Thank you all for reading and following this story through. Your reviews have really made this so much more fun to write!

_Several Months Later…_

            The convention’s time had finally passed. Elections had been held. Eponine had been among the first to proudly cast her ballot for legislative members. Enjolras had won a legislative seat. After the elections, Enjolras had proposed to Eponine, in earnest and she had accepted.

            They had been sitting in the café with all of their friends, when the news about who had won seats came in. Everyone begun drinking and celebrating and after accepting all of his friend’s congratulations, Enjolras had taken Eponine’s hand and led her into the street.

            She grasped his arm when he offered it to her and they walked in companionable silence toward the Luxembourg Gardens. It was mid-September and the air already had a brisk note to it, but the sun was beaming warmly down, and the gardens still clung to the greenness of summer as Eponine and Enjolras entered them. They had not walked far, before Enjolras stopped and lead her to sit on a nearby bench positioned under a large overhanging tree.

            He took her hand and surveyed their surroundings before speaking, “I’m actually rather relieved that this chapter in our lives is over,” he admitted, causing Eponine to look up a bit shocked. She thought he was thoroughly enjoying the convention and subsequent campaign for a legislative seat. He continued before she could interrupt, “Helping to build a government is _tiring_ —it was worth it to help France become a better place for everyone, but I’m excited to actually be governing and helping with policy now, instead of building it all up.”

            Eponine nodded, taking his other hand and just watching him. He smiled at her happily and for once looking blissfully free from the stress that usually clouded his eyes. Since the election had been finished and there had not been much for him to do, Enjolras had been able to sleep well the past few nights and just read during the days and it had done him wonders.

Granted, he managed to drive Eponine a bit crazy, because, it turns out; an Enjolras with nothing to do is an easily frustrated and restless Enjolras. After he slept for a good twelve hours, he had woken up and grabbed a stack of books like he planned to go through all of them in a matter of hours. They had mostly sat and read together, but every few hours Enjolras started pacing the apartment like a caged animal, until Eponine managed to make him calm down. She was relieved that now he would have things to do during the day, even if it meant he would be working too much again.

            Now though, she had more important things on her mind, “I’m so happy for you,” she whispered, clutching more tightly at his hands, “You’re going to be brilliant.”

            His smile grew wider, if it was possible, and he leaned forward to plant a kiss on the top of her head, “Thank you. That you believe in me means everything to me,” he pulled back and reached up a hand to cup her face, “I love you so much,” he said quietly, staring intently into her eyes. She saw something like determination flicker through them and all of a sudden he was sliding to the ground and getting on one knee.

            Eponine’s eyes grew wide and her mouth fell open slightly. She felt her stomach turn queasy as she sat frozen watching him. Enjolras returned to holding both her hands in his as he spoke, “I love you so much,” he repeated, “I know we discussed getting married several months ago and now that things have settled down I was hoping you might be more open to making that idea a reality,” he said sounding slightly nervous, “And I know I’ve haven’t always been around and I won’t always be around so much, being busy with the government and all, but the time we do spend together is amazing. I love talking with you and discussing ideas and books, and just being with you. I want to be with you, hold you in my arms, and spend the rest of my life with you, if you’ll let me,” he looked at her earnestly, waiting for her answer.

            Her heart had begun fluttering widely during his declaration and for a moment she could not answer. To be honest, when he first brought up the idea of marriage, she had not thought he would actually bring it up again and she really could not have cared otherwise. But over the past few months, they had become very close and he had been really supportive of her throughout everything she had done. Even now, he had spent the past few weeks, in any free time he had, trying to help her figure out anyway possible to get her sister away from their parents, safely. He had reunited her with Gavroche and he even offered to take the boy in, but he declined. Enjolras was so compassionate toward her and her siblings and Eponine appreciated it, but the fact that that compassion extend toward everyone he met, endeared Enjolras to Eponine even more. She had witnessed his kindness toward the poor countless times over the past months and every time, it struck her how he could manage to be kind and helpful, without seeming condescending. He could be so fierce and determined, but she had seen over and over again, that he could be so very thoughtful and human and the differences between the two sides of his character intrigued her—she was pretty sure she wanted to spend the rest of her life trying to reconcile those two sides of him; she also really hoped she would never be able to.

            Suddenly realizing that Enjolras was still anxiously waiting for an answer, Eponine squeezed his hands and grinned, “Yes. Yes I’ll marry you,” she murmured and leaned down to kiss him. As their lips met, he dropped her hands and stood, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling her to her feet in the process.

            Enjolras softly stroked the side of her face, pulled back, and said in a softly happy voice, “Thank you,” before he kissed her again. He pulled her to him with such force that Eponine was lifted off the ground mid-kiss and she giggled against his lips, overwhelmed in her happiness.

xxxxx

            Once they made the decision to get married, Eponine and Enjolras decided they did not want to wait very long before having the ceremony. As a result, the next few weeks passed in a blur of arrangements. Eponine spent countless hours with Musichetta and Cosette picking out a dress to wear for the ceremony as well as dresses for a trousseau that Enjolras had generously offered to put money towards. Eponine had never had so many nice dresses in her life and she felt a little spoiled and out of place in the dressmaker’s shop as Cosette and Musichetta bustled to and fro demanding to see how different colors or materials would look on her.

            Occasionally, Eponine would look around at the fine things surrounding her and feel pangs of guilt at the fact that she had escaped the clutches of her bad adolescence and as of yet had not been able to free her sister. The thought of Azelma still living under their father’s roof terrified her. Eponine knew from more frequently contact that Gavroche was fine and perfectly happy living on the streets. She also knew that all of the Amis were fond enough of him that if he really needed something, not that he would ever out right ask, they would try to help him as best as they could.

            But Azelma; Eponine did not even know if the girl had survived through their father’s return the night after Eponine had been rescued and whisked away by Enjolras. Sometimes, in the evenings, when the hustle and bustle of the day and the wedding preparations were behind them, Eponine would sit down with Enjolras and they would discuss options for rescuing Azelma, at length, however they never came to anything that seemed viable.

            The convention, and subsequently the legislature, had set up numerous laws and institutions, designed to give the poor children who lived either homeless on the streets, or in dire conditions, a chance at having a future. Compulsory education was a start, Enjolras believe, to getting the thousands of children who roamed the streets, to do something to advance themselves. But, there was no way Azelma would be allowed to go to school and Thenardier already strayed so above the law that one extra infraction would not stop him. Enjolras had discussed leading the gendarme to the Thenardier residence, but Eponine had begged him not to as the rest of the Patron-Minette would only target Enjolras then. And Enjolras had flat out refused to let Eponine venture back toward her former home to try and talk some sense into Azelma and make her leave. So they were at a standstill. The fate of Eponine’s sister hung above their happiness like a rain cloud threatening to explode sooner than drift away. Eponine was beginning to worry if this concern would filter into their married life and put a dead weight on something that had not even begun yet—she was pretty certain it would if this did not get resolved, and soon.

xxxxx

            With only a week to go until the date Eponine and Enjolras had picked for their wedding, Eponine was rushing down the street to make a quick trip to the market to pick up for food for supper, when she heard a squeak from behind her that sounded an awful lot like her name, making her stop and turn around in question. Seeing the small girl lurking in the shadows of a nearby building Eponine thoughtlessly called, “Azelma!” rushing forward toward her sister who had a look of panic on her face and was hastily glancing around to make sure known one had heard her name being called. Eponine’s eyes grew wide as she realized that she could have put them both in danger with her outburst, if any of her father’s friends were prowling the street, but glancing around as well, she did not notice any of them and for that she was thankful. Reaching her sister, she pulled her into a tight hug, “What are you doing? How are you?” she asked hurriedly.

            Azelma pulled away, still looking very nervous, “I...I did it ‘Ponine—I ran away,” she admitted.

            “Wonderful! Azelma I’m so glad!” Eponine exclaimed, hugging her again, “What made you finally do it?” she inquired as to her sister’s sudden bout of courage.

            Azelma just shook her head as tears began to form in her eyes and she struggled to get words out, “He…father…he,” she stuttered.

            Seeing that Azelma was barely holding it together, Eponine tugged her arm to pull her back down the street, “Come on, come to Enjolras’ flat and tell me there,” she insisted and was grateful when Azelma did not resist.

            Once they were comfortably seated at the table in Enjolras’ flat Eponine demanded of her sister, “Now tell me everything.”

            With a reluctant sigh, Azelma began, “Last night father came home late after having a rather unsuccessful day. He was late and he was drunk. Really drunk—I’ve never seen him so bad. Well he was grumbling and yelling at mother and the rest of his gang was with him and they were likewise depressed and I guess I made myself too noticeable,” she gulped and wiped at her eyes before continuing, “Because next thing I knew, father was yanking me toward one of his men and they were exchanging money and _cackling_ ,” she shuddered and Eponine reached out and took her hand frowning, “and as far as I could tell father was going to sell me for the night,” her eyes got big and fearful at the thought, “So I pulled away and tried to run out the door, but they caught me and…and…,” she stopped and shook her head and began crying, unable to continue, but Eponine could deduce what had happened.

            “He let them raped you?” she asked quietly, shocked that their father would let that happen. Even in his darkest moments, she had thought he still loved them, deep down, like he had when they were children and well off, but no one who loved his daughter would let that happen to her. Her only response from Azelma was louder sobs, so Eponine just pulled her into an embrace and stroked the back of her head, trying to soothe her as best she could, “It’s okay. You’re safe now—you’re safe here, you can stay here with us—it will be much better,” she kept repeating over and over again as her sister cried.

            Azelma did not stop crying until Eponine led her to the couch and she fell asleep, still clutching desperately at her sister. That was where Enjolras found them when he came home in the evening; both sleeping, wrapped up together for comfort, on the couch. He gently woke Eponine and she managed to pull away without waking Azelma and told him what had happened. Enjolras’ eyes blazed with fury and she had to physically restrain him from going and hunting down her father yet again, but he immediately agreed that Azelma should just move in with them.

            After that decision was finalized, Enjolras wrapped his arms around Eponine, hugging her to him tightly as if to protect her from such awful happenings in her own family. Eponine  hugged him back just as fiercely, glad she had gotten away when she did, glad that he had helped her escape, and so happy to be with him in that moment. She expressed as much to him, loving the way his face lit up at her words. She finished by adding, “And now that Azelma is here and safe, we can get married with no more worries,” she laughed, light-hearted and genuinely and completely happy for once. Enjolras kissed her in agreement.

xxxxx

            A week later, Eponine stood in the back of a small church, a couple streets from Enjolras’ flat, with Cosette and Musichetta fussing over her dress and hair one last time before she walked down the aisle. She was wearing a beautiful gold satin dress that rested just off her shoulders and had modestly sized puffed sleeves. The material was covered in delicate embroidery and had a matching sash on her waist. Eponine had never worn something so fine. The other girls’ said the color made her eyes sparkle and she could only hope Enjolras would think so. Her hair was done up in elaborate twists and curls and pinned by Musichetta to the back of her head, letting several tendrils hang down on her neck. Cosette had adorned the back of her hair with pale flowers to complement her dress. She also wore fine lace gloves that Enjolras had presented her with as a present the night before, blushing and stammering as he handed them to her saying that he hoped she would wear them for the ceremony. She was touched that he had gone to the trouble of picking something out for her and kept delicately fingering them with a soft smile on her face as she thought about the wonderful man waiting at the end of the aisle for her.

            A slight touch to her elbow brought Eponine out of her reprieve and she turned around to face the beaming faces of Cosette, Musichetta, and Grantaire. The girls carefully hugged her and made their way into the church to take their seats and Grantaire stepped up next to her and offered her his arm—he was walking her down the aisle, “Don’t you look beautiful,” he informed her, to which she blushed—she was still not used to looking clean, healthy, and nice, “Enjolras is a lucky man.”

            She smiled, but did not say anything because at that moment, the music, that was their cue, began; Grantaire took his first step forward and Eponine followed. She held her breath until they were fully in the church, keeping her eyes down; until she was sure she could see him. Then she looked up and immediately made eye contact with Enjolras, whose smile was so bright, she was sure everyone else had to be blinded by it. She kept her eyes focused on him as Grantaire led her down the aisle and before she knew it Grantaire was transferring her hand to Enjolras and kissing her on the cheek as he took his seat. She barely registered it though as she was focused on the warmth of Enjolras’ eyes on hers and her hand in his as he gave it a squeeze and they turned to face the priest.

            The ceremony flew by and in the blink of an eye, she heard the priest proclaiming them man and wife and Enjolras was pulling her in for a brief kiss while the small congregation of their friends cheered behind them.

            They had a quiet gathering planned at their typical café and they headed there quickly from the church. It was just a small wedding luncheon with their closest friends and it was amiable and fun, but Eponine spent the whole time sitting next to Enjolras, holding his hand, and exchanging sly glances at each other, waiting to be alone.

            When they finally bid their friends farewell, and had sent Azelma off with Cosette and her father for the night, Enjolras practically dragged Eponine back to their flat. Pulling her inside, he turned, smiling at her and leaned down to gently kiss her for a brief moment, “You look gorgeous today,” he informed her, before pulling away and loosening his cravat. It was heading toward evening and the sun was low in the sky, sending its golden glow through the windows making everything appear as if it were on fire.

            Eponine could not take her eyes off Enjolras as he painstakingly pulled the strip of fabric off his throat, baring the smooth looking skin there, and undid the first few buttons of his shirt before he spoke, “We’re married finally,” he stated, voice sounding like he was in awe at the idea.

            “Yes we are,” Eponine replied, walking forward and grasping his hands, stilling them from where they were still working on the buttons of his shirt, “Let me,” she whispered and he froze as her hands ghosted down his torso, freeing him from the suddenly offending garment. She had been sharing a bed with the man for months and they had been kissing for the same amount of time, but his self control when it came to other things, had been maddeningly fierce. Every time they strayed even slightly past what would be considered appropriate, Enjolras had forced them to stop what they were doing and go do separate activities. Eponine was no virgin, but after the past few months, she felt like one again, and she was sorely glad that they were married now and Enjolras’ self control was no longer needed.

            His hands were skirting lightly over her neck and exposed shoulders as she uncovered the bare skin of his chest and pushed off his shirt and jacket, running her hands over the expanse of muscle she had not been allowed to touch before. He was likewise attempting to push her dress off her shoulders and having little luck, before she laughed and turned around indicating that he should undo the ties at the back. Eponine felt Enjolras’ hands fumble as he rushed to undo the strings holding the wedding gown on and it was not long before she was standing before him in only her chemise and petticoat. She quickly removed the later and then took his hand, leading him into the bedroom, as, at the removal of the bulk of fabric she had been wearing, he looked like he had no idea what to do.

            “Come on,” she whispered lovingly, as she sat down on the bed and pulled him down next to her. She placed his hand on her side and wrapped hers around his torso, running her fingers up and down his back, making him shiver, as their lips met in a frightening clash unlike what they had shared before.

            He broke away after awhile panting to hoarsely whisper, “I haven’t done this before you know,” to which Eponine just laughed again and nodded, stroking his cheek with the back of her hand before pulling his lips to hers again.

            Hands began exploring bodies, mapping out muscles and curves, eliciting groans and whimpers as their kisses became sloppier and eventually stilled into lips touching lips as both the newlyweds tried to catch their breath, without pulling apart.

            “Enjolras,” Eponine breathed, looking up at her husband with pleading eyes, hoping he would understand. He gave an adorable curt nod as if to say “okay, we can do this.” She could tell he was nervous as he pushed up away from her briefly, causing her to slightly whine, but then they were united and the whine turned into a moan as their bodies pressed together. His hands grasped her hips as he simultaneously let out a groan. Her hands twisted in his hair, drawing his lips to hers again and melding them together as they began to move.

            Enjolras started whispering her name and his lips moved from hers to her neck and they were both gasping and then suddenly he came first with a loud groan and she followed right after with his name on her lips, and then they lay in each other’s arms, sweaty and breathless. Enjolras’ fingers found Eponine’s and he twined then together as he moved to the side and drew her to his chest, trailing his other hand through her tangled hair, which had fallen out of its pins and curls.

            “So,” he said, smiling happily at her and pressing a tender kiss to her forehead that somehow felt more intimate than what they had just done, “we’re married finally,” he said repeating his earlier statement.

            Eponine buried her head in his bare chest, inhaling his sharp scent and nodded, touching her lips to his sweaty skin, “Yes,” she agreed, unable to keep from smiling herself, “I love you,” she whispered, looking up to meet his eyes and seeing his love reflect back at her.

            “I love you too,” he assured her, and he pulled her even more tightly into him, forming their bodies together as they drifted off to sleep.  

 


End file.
